• 

m  «V\; 


UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIEGO 
Donated  in  memory  of 

John  W.    Snvder 

by 

His  Son  and  Daughter 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  Of 
CALIFORNIA 

SANDIE00 


PSYCHOLOGY 


AND 


PSYCHIC    CULTURE 


BY 


REUBEN   POST   HALLECK,   M.A.    (YALE) 

PRINCIPAL   LOUISVILLE    MALE    HIGH   SCHOOL;   AUTHOR   OF   "THE    EDUCATION   OF  TH£ 
CENTRAL   NERVOUS   SYSTEM*' 


NEW   YORK- :•  CINCINNATI •:•  CHICAGO 

AMERICAN    BOOK    COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  1895,  BY 
AMERICAN   BOOK  COMPANY 

HXLLKCK'S   PSYCHOLOGY. 
E-P        83 


©ratrfullg 
to 


PREFACE. 


FOR  several  years  the  author  has  taught  psychology 
under  conditions  which  necessitated  its  presentation  in  as 
plain  and  as  interesting  a  manner  as  possible.  He  has 
endeavored  to  impose  the  same  conditions  upon  himself 
in  writing  this  book.  Psychological  text-books  have  too 
often  been  a  bundle  of  abstractions.  It  seems  as  if  the 
human  mind  ought  to  have  qualities  that  would  interest 
the  average  person,  whether  young  or  old.  After  consider- 
able experience,  the  author  can  testify  that  the  leading 
truths  of  psychology  can  be  given  in  an  intelligible  way  to 
pupils  under  the  age  of  twenty.  He  has  aimed  in  this 
volume  to  present  as  much  of  the  science  as  the  general 
student  will  need. 

Especial  effort  has  been  made  to  enliven  the  hard  and 
dry  facts  of  the  science  by  employing  illustrations  and 
anecdotes  to  elucidate  them.  No  one  knows  better  than 
the  psychologist  that  it  is  of  little  use  to  present  the  best 
of  subjects  in  an  unattractive  way,  because  facts  devoid 
of  interesting  features  will  not  secure  the  attention. 

The  chapters  on  the  application  of  psychological  laws 
in  the  cultivation  of  the  mental  powers  are  a  characteristic 
feature  of  this  work.  Laws  are  of  little  use  unless  they 
are  applied ;  hence  these  chapters  are  of  the  utmost  impor- 
tance to  all  who  have  not  passed  the  plastic  age.  Psychol- 
ogy, in  order  to  be  most  effective  for  self -improvement, 

5 


6  PREFACE. 

should  be  studied  while  the  brain  is  still  plastic,  and 
hence  earlier  than  is  sometimes  customary.  By  the  age  of 
thirty,  a  ton  of  effort  will  be  required  to  effect  a  change 
which  a  pound  could  have  secured  earlier.  It  has  been  the 
constant  purpose  of  the  author  in  this  work  to  make  the 
study  practically  useful  to  the  student. 

This  volume  aims  to  present  the  latest  ascertained  facts 
of  physiological,  as  well  as  of  introspective,  psychology. 
The  student  ought  not  to  neglect  the  brief  essentials  of 
physiological  psychology,  for  they  will  help  him  on  the 
introspective  side.  No  one  can  have  a  clear  idea  of  the 
nervous  mechanism  at  the  threshold  of  will  power,  unless 
he  can  image  a  sensory  stimulus  flowing  along  an  afferent 
nerve,  pouring  into  a  ganglion  cell,  and  being  reflected  out- 
ward along  a  motor  nerve.  The  few  leading  physiological 
facts,  necessary  to  give  the  average  person  a  groundwork 
for  his  images  of  the  physical  accompaniments  of  mental 
action,  are  very  easily  learned. 

In  some  quarters  an  attempt  has  been  made  to  present 
psychology  without  classification.  This  attempt  has  not 
proved  successful,  for  no  one  has  been  able  to  avoid  the 
terms  which  get  all  their  meaning  from  the  implied  truths 
of  classification.  The  student  who  begins  the  study  of 
psychology  in  such  a  way  will  certainly  be  confused. 

The  author  acknowledges  indebtedness  to  much  of  the 
current  literature  on  the  subject,  and  to  some  of  his  former 
instructors  at  Yale.  On  the  side  of  physiological  psychol- 
ogy, the  writer  must  thank,  for  repeated  help  in  dissecting 
the  brain  and  nervous  system,  the  scholarly  Demonstrator 
of  Anatomy  in  the  Louisville  Medical  College,  Dr.  August 
Schachner. 

R.  P.  H. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

TAGB 

THE  NERVOUS  MECHANISM  AT  THE  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  MIND  .       9 

CHAPTER  II. 
CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  AITENTION 43 

CHAPTER  III. 
PRESENTATION 56 

CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  CULTIVATION  OF  PERCEPTION 89 

CHAPTER  V. 
REPRESENTATION .    101 

CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  MEMORY 132 

CHAPTER  VII. 
THE  IMAGINATION  AND  ITS  CULTURE 150 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

PAGE 

THOUGHT 180 


CHAPTER  IX. 
THOUGHT  CULTURE      222 

CHAPTER  X. 
FEELING  AND  EMOTION 239 

CHAPTER  XI. 
THE  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EMOTIONS 285 

CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  WILL 299 

v 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
THE  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  WILL 348 

INDEX 361 


PSYCHOLOGY  AND    PSYCHIC 
CULTURE. 


TV 


CHAPTER   I. 
THE  NERVOUS  MECHANISM  AT  THE  DISPOSAL  OF  THE  MIND 


The  Scope  and  Importance  of  Psychology.  —  Psychology 
is  a  scientific  study  of  the  mind.  All  sciences  presuppose 
the  fact  that  the  mind  is  subject  to  certain  uniform  laws; 
for  all  sciences  are  products  of  the  mind.  Mathematics, 
the  laws  of  physics,  the  theories  of  evolution  and  of 
material  philosophy,  are  mental  products.  If  memory 
and  thought  work  to-day  differently  from  yesterday,  we 
cannot  depend  on  the  results  of  our  reasoning  powers 
in  any  of  the  sciences.  It  is  the  important  task  of  psy- 
chology to  investigate  mental  laws. 

All  processes  that  affect  and  condition  consciousness 
are,  from  one  point  of  view  or  another,  the  subject  matter 
of  psychology.  The  mental  powers  cannot  be  trained 
intelligently  without  a  knowledge  of  psychological  laws. 

Dependence  of  the  Mind  upon  the  Nervous  System. — 
Marvelous  as  are  the  mind's  achievements,  we  must  note 
that  it  is  as  completely  dependent  upon  the  nervous  system 

9 


10  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

as  is  a  plant  upon  sun,  rain,  and  air.  Suppose  that  a  child 
of  intelligent  parents  were  ushered  into  the  world  without 
a  nerve  leading  from  his  otherwise  perfect  brain  to  any 
portion  of  his  body,  with  no  optic  nerve  to  transmit  the 
glorious  sensations  from  the  eye,  no  auditory  nerve  to 
conduct  the  vibrations  of  the  mother's  voice,  no  tactile 
nerves  to  convey  the  touch  of  a  hand,  no  olfactory  nerve 
to  rouse  the  brain  with  the  delicate  aroma  from  the  or- 
chards and  the  wild  flowers  in  spring,  no  gustatory,  ther- 
mal, or  muscular  nerves.  Could  such  a  child  live,  as  the 
years  rolled  on,  the  books  of  Shakespeare  and  of  Milton 
would  be  opened  in  vain  before  the  child's  eyes.  The 
wisest  men  might  talk  to  him  with  utmost  eloquence,  all 
to  no  purpose.  Nature  could  not  whisper  one  of  her 
inspiring  truths  into  his  deaf  ear,  could  not  light  up  that 
dark  mind  with  a  picture  of  the  rainbow  or  of  a  human 
face. 

No  matter  how  perfect  might  be  the  child's  brain  and 
his  inherited  capacity  for  mental  activities,  his  faculties 
would  remain  for  this  life  shrouded  in  Egyptian  darkness. 
Perception  could  give  memory  nothing  to  retain,  and 
thought  could  not  weave  her  matchless  fabrics  without 
materials. 

Since  nothing  conditions  the  mind  at  the  very  outset 
more  than  the  nervous  system,  it  is  necessary,  before  in- 
vestigating the  various  mental  activities,  to  turn  our  atten- 
tion to  the  study  of  the  nervous  mechanism. 

The  Nervous  System  as  a  Transmitter  of  Stimuli.  — 

/  It  is  the  business  of  the  nervous  system  to  transmit  the 

•  affections  resulting  from  internal  or  external  stimuli.  .-'This 

function  of  reporting  stimuli  may  be  compared  with  the 

machinery  of  an  associated  press  agency,  which  gathers  the 


THE  NERVOUS   MECHANISM.  II 

news  of  the  world.  The  manager  may  be  sitting  on  a  dark 
night  in  his  office  in  New  York  or  London.  He  cannot  see 
what  is  taking  place  in  the  rest  of  the  world,  but  there 
is  a  click  of  the  telegraph  instrument,  and  he  learns 
that  an  ocean  steamer  has  been  wrecked  on  the  Irish 
coast.  After  a  few  moments'  silence  there  is  a  sound 
from  a  different  instrument,  and  he  knows  that  a  noted 
statesman  is  dead.  Another  instrument  vibrates  with  a 
message  that  a  certain  city  cannot  be  heard  from.  An 
earthquake  or  a  cyclone  is  suspected,  and  people  are 
anxious  about  their  friends.  The  manager  himself  sends 
a  dispatch  asking  for  news,  and  he  now  illustrates  the 
second  capacity  of  the  nervous  system,  that  of  transmit- 
ting commands  by  its  own  peculiar  automatic  power.  But 
he  telegraphs  in  vain,  for  the  wires  leading  to  the  city  are 
broken. 

These  telegraph  wires  are  analogous  to  the  nerves  of 
the  ear,  eye,  and  other  senses.  It  is  the  business  of  these 
nerves  to  report  what  is  taking  place  in  their  own  special 
world.  The  brain  in  its  dark  chamber  can  receive  dis- 
patches from  them  alone.  If  a  man  loses  his  sight,  the 
optic  nerves  bring  in  no  further  news,  and  the  case  is 
similar  to  that  of  the  distant  city  whose  telegraphic  com- 
munication has  been  broken  by  an  earthquake  or  a  cyclone. 

We  may  liken  the  human  brain  to  the  manager  of  the 
news  agency,  for  the  nervous  currents  flow  into  the  brain 
in  a  way  analogous  to  that  in  which  news  is  transmitted 
to  him.  Suppose  there  is  in  a  room  over  this  manager 
the  editor  of  a  great  daily  paper  which  receives  its  news 
from  this  association.  The  editor  may  suppress  or  color 
certain  items.  He  may,  from  meager  dispatches,  draw 
inferences  concerning  the  future  of  a  party  or  the  harm 
likely  to  be  inflicted  by  a  certain  measure.  This  editor 


12  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

would  typify  the  active  powers  of  the  mind  in  its  functions 
of  imagination  and  thought. 

Neurones. — The  uj^it  of  the  nervous  system  is  called  the 
neurone.  This  term  designates  both  the  cell  body  and  all 
its  outgrowths.  Hence,  the  neurone  includes,  (i)  a  body 
of  protoplasmic  matter,  sometimes  called  a  nerve  cell,  and 

*  •  ^^^•i^M^^BBMB^BBBBMMM 

(2)  alloutyrflTTthl  frtrn  tf*"t  "-"  The  principal  outgrowth 
is  called  an  axone.  The  term  n^riM  £&tLr  is  frequently 
applied  to  ajijixone,  when  it  is  considered  by  itself,  apart 
from  the  cell.  No  harm  can  come  from  speaking  of  these 
axones  as  "nerve  fibers  "  or  from  applying  the  term  nerves 
to  collections  of  two  or  more  nerve  fibers,  if  we  remember 
that  in  every  case  they  are  outgrowths  of  nerve  cells  and 
that  the  term  neurone  is  applied  to  both  the  cell  and  all 
its  branches  and  that  they  together  form  a  unit  of  the 
nervous  system. 

Of  the  importance  of  these  neurones,  Dr.  M.  Allen  Starr 
says,  ^However  complex  the  act,  the  physical  basis  of  a\\ 
nervous  and  mental  diseases  is  the  interaction  of  a  seriesj 
of  neurones."  The  researches  of  rjsychiatrists  have  shown 
that  a  comparatively  slight  deviation  from  the  normal  de- 
velopment of  certain  brain  neurones  results  in  deficient 
intelligence  or  in  some  form  of  insanity. 

The  Nerves.  —  The  nerves  traverse  every  region  of  the 
body,  just  as  telegraph  wires  thread  a  continent.  Without 
some  such  method  of  transmission,  the  sensations  of  sight, 
hearing,  touch,  and  the  other  special  senses  could,  as  we 
have  seen,  never  reach  the  brain,  nor,  could  commands, 
such  as  to  move  the  muscles,  be  sent  out  from  it. 

What  seems  to  the  eye  a  single  nerve  is  frequently  com- 
posed of  an  enormous  number  of  nerve  fibers.  A  patient 


THE   NERVOUS    MECHANISM. 


German  counted,  in  the  anterior  nerve  roots  branch- 
ing from  a  frog's  spinal  cord,  over  11,000  separate 
nerve  fibers.  Each  one  of  these  is  often  well  insulated 
by,  a  sheath.  Here  we  find  another 
resemblance  to  a  telegraphic  appli- 
ance, for  a  great  number  of  insulated 
wires  often  issue  from  a  building  in 
the  same  tube.  There  is  not  a  single 
city  with  as  many  telegraph  wires  en- 
tering it  as  there  are  nerves  running 
into  the  spinal  cord  and  brain.  Nerve 
fibers  vary  in  size  from  about  73*5-5-  to 
•to"  6*0  oo  of  an  inch  in  diameter. 

When   a    toe   is    injured,   a  fire   is 
seen,  or  a  sound  is  heard,  a  message 
flashes   along  the  proper  nerve  fiber.       FIG.  i.  -  Nerve  fibers. 
The  delivery  of   this   message  is  f  re-  The  dark  interior  portion 

.      .  r      .  marked  A,  is  the  axis  cylin- 

quently  but  one  part   of   the  process.  der.  surrounding  this  dark 

If  some  one  stepped  on  our  toes,  the  axis is the sheath.— Adapt- 
ed from  M'Kendrick. 

fact  would  not  only  be  reported,  but  a 

command  would  be  sent  to  the  muscles  to  move  the  foot 

out  of  harm's  way. 

Afferent  and  Efferent  Nerves.  —  There  are  two  classes  of 
nerves  with  different  functions.  These  nerves  are  called 
afferent  (ad,  to ;  fero,  carry)  and  efferent  (ex,  out ;  fero). 
An  afferent  nerve  conveys  a  stimulus  from  some  part  of 
the  body  to  the  central  nervous  system.  An  efferent 
nerve  transmits  from  this  system  either  an  incentive  to 
movement  or  some  internally  originated  stimulus.  Under 
the  class  of  afferent  nerves  are  sensory  nerves,  which  are 
concerned  in  reporting  sensations  to  the  central  nervous 
system.  Efferent  nerves  include  motor  nerves,  whose 


14  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

function  is  to  move  the  muscles  of  the  body,  under  the 
direction  of  the  central  nervous  system. 

It  is  more  important  for  the  physiologist  than  for  the 
psychologist  to  bear  in  mind  that  while  afferent  and  effer- 
ent nerves  comprise  all  classes,  sensory  and  motor  nerves 
do  not,  for  there  are  nerves  which  regulate  the  size  of  the 
blood  vessels  and  the  nourishment  of  the  body,  control  the 
secretions,  and  perform  various  other  offices  connected 
with  transmitting  stimuli,  which  are  neither  sensory  nor 
motor.  The  psychologist  is  mainly  concerned  with  sen- 
sory and  motor  nerves. 


FIG.  2.  —  Pyramidal  nerve  cells  found  chiefly  in  the  brain.  —  M'Kendrick. 

When  a  man  is  consciously  hurt,  the  sensory  nerve 
reports  the  pain.  The  motor  nerve  carries  a  command  to 
get  out  of  the  way  of  the  cause  if  possible.  If  there  were 
no  motor  nerves,  a  hand  once  clasped  around  a  red-hot  iron 
could  not  drop  the  metal,  although  the  pain  might  be  intense. 
The  difference  between  the  action  of  the  motor  and  of  the 
sensory  nerves  is  well  shown  by  the  effects  of  a  drug  called 
curare.  When  the  South  American  pierces  his  prey  with 
an  arrow  dipped  in  this  poison,  the  motor  nerves  are  pal- 
sied, while  the  sensory  nerves  are  unimpaired.  In  conse- 
quence, the  animal  suffers  acutely  without  being  able  to 


THE  NERVOUS   MECHANISM. 


move  a  muscle.  If  a  vivisector  should  administer  curare 
to  an  animal,  the  sensory  nerves  would  transmit  all  painful 
sensations,  and  of  course  it  would  feel  every  wound,  but 
would  be  unable  to  stir  because  of  palsied  motor  nerves. 


FIG.  3.  —  From  a  piece  of  spinal  cord.  A  and  B,  ganglion  cells ;  D,  axis 
cylinder ;  /,  protoplasmic  process  ;  c,  neuroglia  cells.  —  Ranvier  from  Edingei-, 
Am.  Ed. 

Nerve  Cells  and  Ganglia.  —  Nerve  cells  are  bunches  or 
knots  of  protoplasmic  nerve  matter,  connected  with  nerve 
fibers.  The  nerve  cells  are  of  the  most  various  shapes  — 
cylindrical,  caudate,  pyramidal,  etc. 

A  ganglion  is  an  aggregation,  or  group,  of  nerve  cells. 


l6  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 

Each  ganglion  is  in  some  respects  a  little  brain.  The 
spinal  ganglia  receive  a  sensory  impulse  and  send  out  a 
motor  dispatch  without  calling  on  the  brain.  On  page  18 
is  explained  why  the  cooperation  of  these  is  necessary  for 
our  mental  as  well  as  our  physical  welfare. 

CENTRAL   NERVOUS  SYSTEM. 

The  Spinal  Cord.  —  A  cord  of  nervous  matter  leaves  the 
base  of  the  skull  and,  protected  by  the  spinal  bones,  extends 


FIG.  4.  —  Transverse  section  of  the  spinal  cord ;  in  the  center  is  the  butterfly 
form  of  the  gray  matter  surrounded  by  the  white  matter.  ARt  anterior  roots  of 
spinal  nerves ;  PR,  posterior  roots. —  Landois. 

downward  for  about  a  foot  and  a  half,  in  a  person  of  aver- 
age height.  In  front  of  the  cord  is  a  deep  furrow,  called 
the  anterior  fissure ;  in  the  rear  is  another  groove,  called 
the  posterior  fissure.  These  two  fissures  extend  so  far  into 
the  cord  that  they  almost  divide  it  into  halves,  leaving  only 
a  narrow  bridge  of  nerve  matter  like  the  connecting  bar  in 


THE  NERVOUS  MFCHANISM.  17 

the  letter  H,  or,  more  exactly,  like  two  crescents  joined 
together.  A  transverse  section  of  the  spinal  cord  (see 
Fig.  4)  will  show  two  kinds  of  nerve  substance  —  a  butter- 
fly-shaped mass  of  gray  matter  surrounded  by  white  matter 
The  spinal  cord  gives  off  thirty-one  pairs  of  spinal  nerves, 
which  traverse  various  parts  of  the  body.  These  nerves 
spring  in  pairs  at  the  same  level  from  each  side  of  the 


FlG.  5.  —  Different  views  of  roots  of  the  spinal  nerves  from  regions  of  the  neck. 
The  number  i  in  each  case  indicates  the  anterior  median  fissure  ;  2,  the  posterior 
fissure :  3,  anterior  lateral  depression  for  the  anterior  roots ;  4,  posterior  lateral 
groove  for  the  posterior  roots ;  5  and  6,  the  anterior  and  posterior  roots,  respec- 
tively ;  7,  the  united  nerve  formed  by  the  junction  of  anterior  and  posterior  roots. — 
Allen  Thompson. 

spinal  cord.  Each  nerve  has  two  roots,  an  anterior  and  a 
posterior.  At  a  little  distance  from  the  spinal  cord  these 
roots  unite  in  one  bundle.  If  the  foot  were  pricked,  the 
sensory  impulse  would  enter  the  spinal  cord  by  the  poste- 

HALLECt's    PSYC,  —  a 


1 8  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

rior  root.  The  spinal  ganglia  would  set  free  a  motor 
impulse,  which  would  leave  for  the  foot  by  the  anterior 
root  of  the  nerve.  If  the  posterior  root  of  the  nerve  sup- 
plying the  foot  were  cut,  the  foot  might  be  crushed  without 
a  sensation  of  pain,  but  a  motor  impulse  could  be  sent  as 
before.  If  the  anterior,  or  motor,  root  were  cut,  the 
application  of  a  hot  iron  would  cause  as  much  pain  as 
ever,  but  the  sufferer  could  not  move  the  foot  an  inch 
from  the  iron,  no  matter  how  great  the  pain. 

A  large  part  of  the  body  is  absolutely  dependent  upon 
the  integrity  of  the  spinal  cord  for  the  transmission  of  sen- 
sory and  motor  impulses.  If  a  person's  back  is  broken, 
that  part  of  the  body  supplied  by  nerves  attached  to  the 
spinal  cord  below  the  seat  of  injury  is  paralyzed.  Such  an 
unfortunate  might  watch  the  amputation  of  his  own  leg  with 
as  little  feeling  of  pain  as  if  the  limb  belonged  to  another 
person.  No  act  of  will  would  suffice  to  move  such  a  limb. 

Reflex  Action.  —  Reflex  nervous  action  is  the  result  of 
that  power  resident  in  nervous  ganglia,  which  often  uncon- 
sciously causes  many  muscular  and  vital  movements.  The 
spinal  cord  is  largely  made  up  of  such  masses  of  nervous 
matter,  which  have  sometimes  been  called  "little  brains." 
If  one  were  to  prick  the  toe  of  a  sleeper,  the  sensory  nerve 
at  that  point  would  report  the  fact  to  one  of  the  lower  spinal 
nerve  masses.  This  ganglion,  without  waiting  to  hear  from 
the  brain,  would  issue  a  command  to  the  motor  nerve,  and 
the  foot  would  be  immediately  withdrawn.  Unless  the 
thrust  were  severe,  the  sleeper  would  not  awake,  nor  would 
he  be  conscious  of  pain  or  of  the  movement  of  his  foot. 
This  nervous  action  is  called  reflex,  because,  when  the 
sensory  nerve  conveys  an  impulse  to  the  ganglion,  this  im- 
pulse is  at  once,  and  without  the  action  of  the  will,  reflected 


THE  NERVOUS   MECHANISM. 


back  by  a  motor  nerve.  Thus  the  mind  is  not  only  saved 
the  trouble  of  attending  to  every  little  movement,  but  much 
time  is  gained.  After  the  child  has  learned  the  difficult  art 
of  balancing  himself  on  his  feet,  walking  becomes  largely  a 
reflex  act.  At  first  the  child  must  center  his  whole  atten- 
tion on  movements  to  balance  the  body.  The  man  can 
think  out  the  most  complex  problems  while  walking,  be- 
cause the  reflex 
nervous  centers 
are  superintend- 
ing the  balancing 
process. 

'Few  men  re- 
member which 
end  of  the  collar 
they  button  on 
first,  or  which 
shoe  they  put  on 
first;  yet  the  re- 
flex nerve  center, 
if  left  to  itself, 
has  an  invariable 
order  in  executing 

these  movements^        FlG.6. — Diagrammatic  representation  of  reflex  action. 

^nmp   wrrpVirstfc  ^  nerve  is  stimulated  in  the  skin,  and  the  sensory  nerve 

b  transmits  the  sensation  to  the  spinal  nerve  cell,  which 

have    much    more  reflects  back  the  impulse  by  the  motor  nerve,  causing 

reflex  power  than  t^nultahre  ^aent  There  may  be  no  knowledge  of 
man.  The  spinal 

cord  in  such  animals  keeps  its  vitality  for  a  long  time  after 
decapitation,  and  the  nerve  masses  in  the  cord  have  the 
power  to  set  the  motor  nerves  in  action,  causing  muscular 
contraction.  For  this  reason  a  decapitated  snake  will 
squirm  around  in  a  lively  manner  if  its  tail  is  struck.  The 


2O  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

reason  why  fowls  often  flutter  so  violently  after  the  fatal 
stroke  is  because  they  are  thrown  roughly  down.  The 
sensory  nerves  report  the  bruise  or  jar  to  a  reflex  center, 
which  agitates  the  motor  nerves  controlling  the  muscles 
which  would  ordinarily  move  them  out  of  harm's  way  If 
beheaded  fowls  are  laid  down  carefully  on  straw  or  some 
soft  substance,  they  will  scarcely  move.  But  if  they  should 
be  kicked  a  moment  or  two  later,  they  will  frequently 
jump  around  in  a  lively  manner.  If  acid  is  placed  on  the 
side  of  a  decapitated  frog,  the  animal  will,  by  reflex  action, 
bring  its  foot  to  the  spot  and  try  to  brush  the  drop  away. 
Man  also  has  something  of  this  reflex  power  after  death. 
The  pectoral  muscle  of  a  beheaded  French  criminal  was 
pinched,  and  the  right  hand  v/as  raised  to  the  spot  as  if  to 
remove  the  cause  of  the  injury. 

The  Medulla  Oblongata.  —  At  its  upper  end  the  spinal 
cord  enlarges  into  the  medulla  oblongata,  which  is  a  reflex 
center  of  a  higher  order  than  the  spinal  cord.  The  medulla 
has  more  or  less  control  of  the  sympathetic  nervous  system, 
which  regulates  the  heart,  lungs,  blood  vessels,  and  various 
abdominal  organs.  If  the  muscular  contraction  and  ex- 
pansion of  the  heart  were  under  direct  mental  supervision, 
a  person  might  become  so  interested  in  something,  or  so 
excited  by  an  accident  or  unusual  event,  that  he  would 
forget,  until  too  late,  to  move  the  muscles  of  the  heart. 
The  same  might  also  be  true  of  respiration.  The  medulla 
has  power  to  attend  to  these,  without  calling  on  the  brain 
and  obtruding  the  unnecessary  details  on  consciousness. 

The  Cerebellum. — The  cerebellum,  or  little  brain,  lying 
above  the  medulla,  is  also  a  reflex  center  of  a  high  order. 
The  cerebellum  is  the  organ  which  coordinates  muscular 


THE  NERVOUS   MECHANISM.  21 

movements  necessary  to  balance  the  body  while  moving 
through  space.  It  has  been  found  that  whenever  the  cere- 
bellum of  animals  is  injured,  their  gait  is  affected.  Exces- 
sive injury  renders  walking  impossible  (i).1 

The  Brain.  —  Hitherto,  in  discussing  the  nervous  system, 
we  have  been  speaking  of  reflex  acts  and  the  nerves  of 


FlG.  7.  —  Side  view  of  the  brain  in  the  skull.  F  is  placed  on  the  frontal  lobes, 
which  extend  back  to  K-R,  the  fissure  of  Rolando,  and  down  to  5-5,  the  fissure  of 
Sylvius.  T  is  placed  on  the  temporal  lobes,  which  lie  below  5-5.  P  marks  the 
parietal  lobes,  which  are  behind  the  fissure  of  Rolando  and  extend  downward  to 
fO,  the  parieto-occipital  fissure.  O  is  on  the  occipital  lobes,  which  comprise  the 
lower  rear  part  of  the  brain.  The  fissures  of  Rolando  and  Sylvius  are  the  first 
landmarks  to  be  learned. 

transmission.  There  is  not  the  slightest  mental  element 
about  any  of  these  reflex  acts.  An  affection  of  the  retina, 
of  the  tympanum  of  the  ear,  or  of  the  nerves  of  taste,  is 
not  a  mental  phenomenon.  Before  the  actions  of  the 

1  See  under  "  Authorities  Quoted,"  at  end  of  chapter. 


22 


PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 


sensory  nerves  can  become  mental,  they  must  report  to 
headquarters  in  the  brain,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  affect 
consciousness.  There  is  as  much  mental  quality  in  the 
picture  on  the  plate  in  the  camera  as  in  the  picture  on 
the  optic  retina.  The  vibrations  of  the  aural  tympanum 


FIG.  8.  —  Diagrammatic  side  view  of  brain,  showing  cerebellum,  CB,  and  medulla 
oblongata,  MO.  Flt  Fa,  Fa,  are  placed  on  the  first,  second,  and  third  frontal  con' 
volutions  ;  AF,  on  the  ascending  frontal ;  AP,  on  the  ascending  parietal ;  M,  on 
the  marginal ;  A,  on  the  angular.  7},  T2,  T8,  are  placed  on  the  first,  second,  and 
third  temporal  convolutions ;  Olt  O2,  Oa,  on  the  first,  second,  and  third  occipital 
convolutions.  R-R  marks  the  fissure  of  Rolando ;  5-5,  the  fissure  of  Sylvius ;  PO, 
the  parieto-occipital  fissure. 

are  as  purely  mechanical  a$  are  those  of  a  drum ;  but  the 
eye  and  the  ear  have  a  brain  connected  with  them,  while 
the  camera  and  the  drum  have  none. 

The  cerebrum,  or  large  brain,  occupies  the  greater  part 


THE  NERVOUS  MECHANISM.  23 

of  the  cavity  of  the  skull.  The  cerebrum  is  divided  into 
two  hemispheres,  the  right  and  the  left.  For  our  purpose 
we  may  call  attention  to  four  lobes  on  the  outer  surface  of 
each  hemisphere.  A  deep  furrow,  called  the  fissure  of 
Rolando,  divides  the  upper  portion  of  each  hemisphere 
transversely  into  two  parts,  while  the  fissure  of  Sylvius 
does  the  same  thing  for  the  sides  of  each  hemisphere. 


FIG.  9.  — Side  view  of  a  monkey's  brain,  showing  motor  centers. —  Horsley 
and  Schafer. 

The  surface  of  the  brain  anterior  to  these  two  fissures  is 
called  the  frontal  lobe.  The  parietal  lobe  lies  immediately 
behind  the  fissure  of  Rolando  and  extends  down  to  the 
occipital  lobe,  which  comprises  the  rear  part  of  the  brain. 
The  temporal  lobe  lies  on  the  side  of  the  brain  immediately 
behind  and  below  the  fissure  of  Sylvius.  Each  of  these 
'obes  is  divided  into  convolutions  by  furrows  more  or  less 
distinct 


24  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE 

There  is  a  correspondence  between  the  interior  surfaces 
of  the  two  hemispheres  where  they  face  each  other,  just  as 
the  halves  of  an  apple  match  on  their  plane  side.  These 
interior  surfaces  of  the  hemispheres  have  certain  convo- 
lutions, of  which  it  is  not  easy  to  form  an  idea  without  a 
brain  model.  (See  Fig.  12.) 

Line  indicates  fissure 
of  Rolando 


Occipital 
lobe 


Fissure  of       Temporal 
Sylvius  lobe 

FlG.  10. —  Diagram  showing  position  of  sensory  and  motor  centers  on  the 
outer  surface  of  the  human  brain.  The  convolutions  on  which  these  centers  fall 
may  be  seen  on  referring  to  Fig.  8.  —  Kirke's  Handbook. 

Localization  of  Functions.  —  It  can  scarcely  be  doubted 
that  the  brain,  like  a  large  city,  has  much  of  its  complex 
business  systematized  and  localized.  Those  anxious  about 
the  arrest  of  a  criminal  go  to  see  the  chief  of  police ;  those 
wishing  to  search  a  title  go  to  the  county  clerk's  office ; 
those  who  try  cases  repair  to  the  court  chambers.  In  like 
manner  the  senses  report  to  certain  parts  of  the  brain,  while 
other  well-defined  parts  send  out  a  motor  order  to  raise  a 
hand  or  to  speak  a  word. 

The  motor  zone,  or  that  part  of  the  brain  concerned  in 


THE  NERVOUS   MECHANISM.  25 

sending  out  orders  to  move  the  body,  lies  on  either  side  of 
the  fissure  of  Rolando.  So  definitely  has  this  area  been 
mapped  out,  that  it  is  possible  to  find,  for  the  purpose  of 
a  surgical  operation,  so  small  a  center  as  that  which  moves 
the  vocal  cords,  directs  a  thumb,  or  winks  an  eye.  When 
the  motor  region  of  the  brain  is  laid  bare,  and  its  various 
parts  are  stimulated  by  electricity,  the  muscles  governed 
by  certain  areas  immediately  contract.  (See  Figs.  9  and 
10.) 


FIG.  ii.  —  Side  of  left  hemisphere  of  human  brain,  showing  the  principal 
localized  areas.  —  Adapted  from  Mills. 


Sensory  brain  tracts  are  those  concerned  in  receiving 
impressions  from  the  senses.  The  center  for  sight  is  in 
the  occipital  part  of  the  brain ;  that  for  hearing  is  probably 
in  the  rear  two  thirds  of  the  first  and  second  temporal  con- 
volution s  ( Fig.  8,  Tlt  Tz).  The  center  for  touch  has  not  been 
definitely  ascertained,  but  the  lobe  of  the  gyrus  fornicatus 
(Fig.  12),  on  the  mesial  surface  of  the  brain,  and  the 


20  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

parietal  area  (see  Fig.  11,  portion  marked  "Sensory") 
are  probably  most  actively  concerned  in  this  sense.  The 
centers  for  taste  and  smell  are  uncertain.  What  evidence 
there  is,  places  them  under  the  front  part  of  the  temporal 
region  and  immediately  behind  the  fissure  of  Sylvius,  in 
the  convolution  of  the  gyrus  hippocampus  (Fig.  12). 

The  higher  functions  of  the  mind,  such  as  imagination 
and  thought,  have  never  been  localized.  The  entire  brain 
is  probably  an  organ  of  memory.  In  general  terms,  we 


FIG.  12. —  Interior  surface  of  a  hemisphere  of  the  brain,  showing  probable 
localization  of  touch,  taste,  and  smell.  —  Modified  from  Kirke's  Handbook. 

may  say  that  the  cortex,  or  outer  surface  of  gray  matter 
enveloping  the  brain,  is  the  part  most  concerned  in  mental 
action.  There  is  only  a  probability  that  the  higher  forms 
of  psychical  action  are  most  closely  connected  with  the 
frontal  lobes.  The  interior  of  the  hemispheres  of  the 
brain  is  almost  entirely  composed  of  connective  nerve 
fibers. 

It  is  desirable  for  the  average  person  to  have  such  a  gen- 


THE  NERVOUS   MECHANISM.  2? 

eral  knowledge  of  brain  localization  as  may  be  obtained 
from  the  accompanying  diagrams,  because  the  necessity  for 
the  unifying  action  of  mind  will  be  thereby  better  compre- 
hended. When  we  study  the  separating  and  the  combining 
powers  of  the  imagination,  we  shall  then  remember  that 
different  sensations  at  the  very  first  ran  into  different  parts 
of  the  brain.  When  we  investigate  the  will,  we  shall  the 
better  understand  how  a  sensation,  pouring  into  one  part  of 
the  brain,  is  transformed  in  another  part  into  a  motor  stim- 
ulus, and  thus  completes  its  passage  along  a  nervous  arc. 


Observed  Effects  of  Mental  Action  on  the  Brain.  — 

mometers  placed  against  the  scalp  have  shown  a  rise  of 
temperature  during  any  mental  effort,  whether  it  be  in 
noticing  some  new  thing,  in  committing  to  memory,  in 
thinking,  or  in  experiencing  an  emotion.  While  a  woman 
was  being  subjected  to  a  test  of  this  sort,  from  no  apparent 
cause  her  temperature  suddenly  rose.  The  explanation  ju^eJ^AW 
was  that  she  had  at  that  moment  caught  sight  of  a  skull 
in  the  room. 

From  experiments  on  animals,  we  learn  that  the  active 
use  of  their  senses  causes  a  rise  in  cerebral  temperature. 
A  German  investigator  found  that  when  he  presented 
something  not  good  to  eat  to  the  nostrils  of  a  dog,  the 
momentary  sniff  was  accompanied  by  a  slight  rise  in  tem- 
perature. When  a  package  containing  a  piece  of  meat 
was  offered,  the  temperature  was  higher,  because  of  more 
lively  emotional  interest. 

A  table,  balanced  as  accurately  as  an  apothecary's  scales, 
has  been  devised,  so  that  a  person  may  recline  on  it  in 
a  horizontal  position.  If  he  begins  to  think,  or  to  use  his 
mind  actively,  down  goes  the  head  end,  because  of  the 
increased  amount  of  blood  in  the  brain.  The  knowledge 


28  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

of  the  effect  of  mental  action  on  the  brain  teaches  us 
that  this  organ  comes  under  the  law,  that  the  harder  any 
organ  is  worked  the  more  rest  and  nutriment  it  must  have. 
To  secure  the  best  intellectual  action,  there  must  be  assimi- 
lation of  the  most  nutritive  food,  sufficient  sound  sleep, 
and  an  adequate  amount  of  pure  air  and  exercise ;  other- 
wise the  brain  will  become  a  dulled  tool.  Intellectual  cul- 
ture probably  causes  definite  effects  upon  the  structure  of 
the  brain  and  tends  to  keep  it  plastic  longer.  It  is  doubt- 
ful whether  the  cerebral  cortex  ever  returns  to  its  exact 
previous  condition  after  receiving  a  new  sensation. 

The  brain  of  a  fairly  intelligent  person,  if  unfolded  and 
smoothed  out,  would  be  found  to  have  a  superficial  area  of 
about  four  square  feet.  The  greater  the  intelligence  of 
the  person,  the  deeper  are  the  convolutions  and  the  finer 
the  structure.  Education,  instead  of  rendering  the  brains 
of  the  sexes  more  alike,  serves  rather  to  intensify  the  dif- 
ference. The  faces  and  the  brains  of  male  and  female 
savages  resemble  each  other  far  more  closely  than  do  those 
of  the  different  sexes  among  the  most  intelligent  people. 

Relation  between  Age  and  Brain  Growth.  —  The  brain 
reaches  its  maximum  -.weight  by  the  fifteenth  year,  but 
probably  continues  developing  internally  until  at  least -the- 
age  of  thirty.  There  comes  a  time  when  the  brain,  like 
the  rest  of  the  body,  ceases  to  grow  and  remains  at  a 
standstill.  Between  forty  and  fifty,  a  slow  decrease  in  the 
weight  of  the  brain  begins,  at  a  rate  varying  with  different 
people.  From  this,  we  see  the  superiority  of  youth  to  age 
in  securing  mental  culture.  A  young  brain  is  vigorous, 
like  a  young  body,  and  can  travel  much  faster  over  the 
continents  of  perception  and  memory. 

The  brain  is  less  plastic  after  twenty,  and  it  gradually, 


THE   NERVOUS   MECHANISM.  2g 

so  to  speak,  ossifies.  Few  men,  after  passing  far  into  the 
thirties,  get  an  entirely  new  idea  into  their  heads,  although 
the  brain  of  the  genius,  as  well  as  a  brain  judiciously 
exercised,  probably  remains  plastic  beyond  the  usual 
period.  After  even  the  age  of  forty,  a  fine  structure  of 
thought  may  be  erected  with  materials  already  gathered 
upon  foundations  already  built,  but  any  new  fact  will  be 
apperceived  (see  p.  85)  in  terms  of  former  knowledge.  A 
study  of  brain  structure  impresses  the  necessity  of  early 
doing  all  we  can.  Investigations  tend  to  show  that  the 
cerebral  association  fibers,  which  probably  furnish  the 
physical  basis  for  thinking,  cease  progressive  medullary 
development  before  forty.  Some  authorities  think  that 
the  capacity  for  gaining  new  ideas  ends  earlier  than  indi- 
cated above.  Professor  James  says,  "  Outside  of  their  own 
business,  the  ideas  gained  by  men  before  they  are  twenty- 
five  are  practically  the  only  ideas  they  shall  have  in  their 
lives ;  they  cannot  get  anything  new.  Disinterested  curi- 
osity is  past,  the  mental  grooves  and  channels  set,  the 
power  of  assimilation  gone"  (2). 

PERIPHERAL  NERVOUS  SYSTEM. 

The  Senses.  —  If  currents  from  the  various  sensory 
nerves  did  not  flow  into  the  brain,  we  should  get  no 
knowledge  of  the  outside  world ;  the  cerebral  mechan- 
ism, which  is  the  most  wonderful  known  to  us,  would  be 
useless.  The  brain  gets  dispatches  from  the  optic,  audi- 
tory, olfactory,  tactile,  gustatory,  and  other  nerves.  These 
dispatches  are  the  data  from  which  we  get  our  knowledge 
of  the  world. 

The  Sense  of  Touch.  —  Myriad  sensory  nerves  have  their 
endings  in  the  skin.  When  these  are  sufficiently  excited, 


PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 


they  transmit  to  the  brain  a  peculiar  sensation  of  pressure, 
which  we  refer  to  the  surface  of  our  bodies.  In  this  way 
our  world  of  touch  is  built  up,  and  we  know 
things  as  hard,  soft,  smooth,  sticky,  rough, 
and  as  offering  resistance.  The  precise  way 
in  which  we  construct  this  tactile  world 
will  be  considered  under  Perception.  (See 
Figs.  13  and  14.) 

There  is  great  difference  in  the  tactile 
sensitiveness  of  the  skin.  The  distance  at 
which  the  points  of  a  pair  of  blunted  com- 
passes can  be  distin- 
guished apart  varies 
from  one  twenty-fourth 
of  an  inch  at  the  tip  of 
the  tongue  to  one  inch 
on  the  cheek,  and  two 
and  a  half  inches  in 
the  mid-dorsal  region. 

When  a  touch  cor- 
puscle is  excited,  the 
sensation  persists  for  a 

FIG.   13.  —  Dia-  .  FIG.  14.  —  Touch  corpus- 

grammatic  view  of  time  after  the    removal  cle  magnified  50  diameters, 

the  under  surface  of   the    exciting   object.  ~  M'Kendrick. 
of  the  index  finger, 

showing  nerves  If   the  finger  is  held  against   a  revolving 


Wheel  With   blunt   teeth> 


are    felt 


nerve;  b,  c,  lateral  rate  so  long  as  the  revolutions  are  not  too 

and     terminal  .,      ,      .   ..         .   ,  ,        „,    .       ..      .. 

branches  of  the  rapid;  but  if  quickened  sufficiently,  the  sur- 
nerves;  d,d,d.  Pa-  face  of  tne  toothed  wheel  will  seem  smooth. 

cinian  corpuscles.—  . 

M'Kendrkk,  after   In  touching  different  objects  in  quick  suc- 

cession, the  nerves  may  not  have  lost  the 

excitation   from    one   object    when    another    is    touched. 

Hence  our  tactile  knowledge  of  the  second  object  would 


THE  NERVOUS  MECHANISM.  3! 

be  a  mixture  of  the  qualities  of  both  objects.  This  persist- 
ence is  easily  understood  in  the  case  of  taste,  when  the 
second  object's  qualities  may  appear  changed  because 
something  else  has  been  eaten  immediately  before.  We 
then  say  that  the  taste  of  the  other  is  not  yet  out  of 
the  mouth.  We  can  also  say  that  the  touch  of  a  former 
object  is  not  yet  out  of  the  skin,  the  sight  out  of  the 
optic  nerve,  the  sound  out  of  the  auditory  nerve,  the  smell 
out  of  the  olfactory  nerve ;  although  sensations  from  the 
other  senses  seldom  persist  as  long  as  those  of  taste. 

What  is  popularly  known  as  touch  is  really  due  to 
diverse  sensations.  Among  these  must  be  reckoned  those 
of  pressure  and  temperature,  as  well  as  muscular  sensa- 
tions. Specialists  tell  us  that  "  a  lesion  which  may  cut  off 
the  possibility  of  feeling  pain  in  a  given  part  of  the  body, 
may  leave  it  still  susceptible  to  sensations  of  heat  and  cold ; 
or  the  sensation  of  touch  may  be  present  while  the  sensation 
of  pain  cannot  be  aroused.  From  this  we  see  that  nerve 
impulses,  giving  rise  to  sensations  of  touch,  of  pain,  of  tem- 
perature, of  the  muscular  sense,  must  pass  upwards  to  the 
sensorium  by  different  paths, 
one  of  which  may  be  cut  off 
while  the  others  remain  "  (3). 


Temperature  Sensations. 
—  If  we  take  a  metal  pencil 
and  dip  it  in  hot  water,  we  FlG.^._c>coldspots;  //.heatspots. 

shall    find    as    we    pass    the    found  on  the  back  of  the  wrist.  —  Gold- 
.    ,  ,  .      , ,  Schneider. 

point  over  our  skin  that  cer- 
tain spots  are  sensitive  to  heat     If  we  move  the  point,  we 
shall  find  spots  sensitive  to  cold  alone.     Here  the  metal 
does  not  feel  warm     (See  Fig.  15.)    If  we  put  cold  metal 
on  a  "heat  spot,"  the  sensation  of  cold  is  absent     These 


32  PSYCHOLOGY  AND  PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

points  do  not  coincide  with  those  specially  sensitive  to 
touch.  A  washerwoman  will  hold  her  iron  near  her  cheek 
to  test  the  temperature.  The  cheek  is  especially  respon- 
sive  to  thermal  sensations,  not  so  to  tactile  ones.  It  is 
probable  that  there  are  special  thermal  nerves. 

The  temperature  sense  furnishes  us  with  a  good  illustra- 
tion to  show  that  our  senses  do  not  make  an  absolute,  but 
only  a  relative,  report  concerning  the  world.  We  can  easily 
demonstrate  that  the  same  water  may  seem  both  hot  and 
cold  to  us  at  the  same  time.  Let  A  be  a  bowl  of  cold 
water;  B,  a  bowl  of  hot  water;  C,  a  bowl  of  lukewarm 
water.  Plunge  the  right  hand  into  A,  the  left  into  B\ 
then  withdraw  both  and  plunge  them  into  C.  The  luke- 
warm water  will  seem  warm  to  the  right  hand,  cold  to 
the  left 

The  Muscular  Sense.  —  There  are  sensory  nerves  origi- 
nating in  the  muscles,  as  well  as  in  the  skin.  When  we 
take  hold  of  anything  heavy,  these  sensory  nerves  in  the 
muscles  yield  a  different  sensation  from  that  produced  by 
lifting  a  light  object.  The  term  "  muscular"  has  been  ap- 
plied to  those  sensations  coming  from  the  muscles  when  ir 
motion  or  at  rest,  when  tense  or  relaxed.  Muscular  sensa 
tion  is  always  more  or  less  voluminous,  and  it  is  charac- 
terized by  a  spatial  element  which  helps  us  to  form  our 
idea  of  bodies  in  space.  (See  p.  71.) 

The  Sense  of  Sight.  —  "  The  optical  apparatus  may  be 
supposed  for  the  sake  of  description  to  consist  of  several 
parts.  First,  of  a  system  of  transparent  refracting  sur- 
faces and  media  by  means  of  which  images  of  external 
Dbjects  are  brought  to  a  focus  upon  the  back  of  the  eye; 
and  secondly,  of  a  sensitive  screen,  the  retina,  which  is  a 


THE  NERVOUS    MECHANISM. 


33 


specialized  termination  of  the  optic  nerve,  capable  of  being 
stimulated  by  luminous  objects,  and  of  sending  through  the 
optic  nerve  such  an  impression  as  to  produce  in  the  brain 
visual  sensations.  To  these  main  parts  may  be  added, 
thirdly,  an  apparatus  for  focusing  objects  at  different 
distances  from  the  eye,  called  accommodation.  Even  this 
does  not  complete  the  description  of  the  whole  organ 
of  vision,  since  both  eyes  are  usually  employed  in  vision; 


Ciliary  muscle 

Ciliary  process 

Canal  of  Petit 

Cornea 

Anterior  chamber 


Lens- 

It-is 

Ciliary  process- 
Ciliary  muscle 


FIG.  16.  —  Section  of  the  eyeball.  —  Kirke's  Handbook. 

and  fourthly,  an  arrangement  exists  by  means  of  which 
the  eyes  may  be  turned  in  the  same  direction  by  a  system 
of  muscles,  so  that  binocular  vision  is  possible. 

"The  eye  may  be  compared  to  a  photographic  camera, 
and  the  transparent  media  correspond  to  the  photographic 
lens.  In  such  a  camera  images  of  objects  are  thrown  upon 
a  ground-glass  screen  at  the  back  of  a  box,  the  interior  of 
which  is  painted  black.  In  the  eye,  the  camera  proper  is 
represented  by  the  eyeball  with  its  choroidal  pigment,  the 
HALLECK'S  PSYC. — 3. 


34  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

screen  by  the  retina,  and  the  lens  by  the  refracting  media. 
In  the  case  of  the  camera,  the  screen  is  enabled  to  receive 
clear  images  of  objects  at  different  distances,  by  ah  appa- 
ratus for  focusing.  The  corresponding  contrivance  in  the 
eye  is  the  accommodation.  The  iris,  which  is  capable  of 
allowing  more  or  less  light  to  pass  into  the  eye,  corre- 
sponds with  the  different-sized  diaphragms  used  in  photo, 
graphic  apparatus  "  (4).  (See  Fig.  16.) 

The  important  facts  for  the  student  of  psychology  to 
remember  about  the  physical  mechanism  of  the  eyes  are : 
(i)  that  they  resemble  photographic  apparatus,  although 
far  more  complex ;  (2)  that  the  fibers  of  the  optic  nerves 
leading  from  the  retina  of  each  eye  meet  at  the  base  of  the 
brain,  where  part  of  these  fibers  decussate,  or  cross  to  the 
opposite  side  (see  Fig.  17);  (3)  that  these  fibers  lead  to 
brain  cells  in  the  occipital  lobes ;  (4)  that  only  the  result- 
ant retinal  change  due  to  light  reflected  from  objects  is 
transmitted  to  the  occipital  lobes  by  the  optic  nerves ;  and 
(5)  that  these  sensations  from  light  thus  aroused  in  the 
occipital  lobes  are  interpreted  by  a  perceiving  mind  to 
mean  certain  things,  in  the  same  way  that  Chinese  sym- 
bols are  translated  into  thoughts. 

Since  muscular  sensations  are  such  important  factors  in 
estimating  the  distance  and  spatial  relations  of  bodies,  it  is 
important  for  the  student  to  know  that  the  eye  has  six  mus- 
cles, four  of  which  are  straight,  and  attached  to  the  front 
part  of  the  eyeball.  There  are  two  oblique  muscles  which 
are  joined  to  the  sides  of  the  orbit  behind  the  attachment 
of  the  straight  muscles.  These  oblique  muscles,  as  their 
name  implies,  tend  to  pull  the  eyes  obliquely  between  the 
directions  given  by  the  other  muscles.  In  this  way  the 
eyeball  can  be  rolled  upward,  downward,  inward,  outward, 
and  in  oblique  directions.  If  we  look  at  a  near  object; 


THE  NERVOUS   MECHANISM. 


35 


there  is  considerable  muscular  strain  to  converge  the  eyes 
to  bear  upon  it.     When  we  look  at  a  remote  object,  this 


FlG.  17. —  Semi-diagrammatic  representation  of  the  nervous  processes  concerned 
in  vision.  A,  optic  chiasma,  or  place  where  a  portion  of  the  optic  fibers  from  each 
eye  cross  to  the  opposite  side.  The  course  of  the  optic  fibers  is  shown  from  the 
time  they  leave  the  eye  until  they  pass  into  the  occipital  lobes  of  the  brain, 

strain  disappears.      Hence  the  muscular  sensations  vary 
with  the  distance  and  direction  of  objects. 


36  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

There  is  contact  in  optical,  as  well  as  in  tactile  and  olfac- 
tory sensations.  Vibrations  in  the  luminiferous  ether  strike 
the  eye  and  affect  the  retina.  The  optic  nerve  transmits 
the  excitation  to  the  brain,  and  we  see. 

From  studying  the  sense  of  sight,  one  is  impressed  with 
the  unity  of  the  mind.  In  normal  eyes  there  are  always 
two  images  of  the  same  object,  and  an  optic  nerve  from 
each  eye  leads  to  the  brain.  Since  a  large  number  of  the 
fibers  in  the  optic  nerve  from  the  right  eye  cross  over  to 
the  left  side  of  the  brain,  and  a  large  number  of  those 
from  the  left  eye  cross  to  the  right  side,  the  problem  of 
sight  becomes  more  complex ;  for  there  are  not  only  two 
images,  but  each  image  is  partially  transmitted  to  the  side 
of  the  brain  opposite  to  the  direction  in  which  the  light 
from  the  object  enters  the  eye.  In  addition  to  this,  the 
image  is  always  formed  on  the  retina  bottom  side  up. 
Strictly  speaking,  the  images  are  never  transmitted  to  the 
brain,  but  only  the  resultant  effect.  The  mind  uses  this  as 
a  datum  to  construct  its  picture  of  the  thing  seen.  When 
the  captain  of  a  steamship  sees  three  red  lanterns  in  a 
certain  position  on  another  vessel,  he  is  not  concerned  with 
images  of  the  lanterns,  but  with  what  those  lanterns  mean; 
namely,  that  the  vessel  is  disabled. 

Some  persons  whose  abnormal  eyes  do  not  transmit  a 
fused  impression,  always  see  a  thing  double,  and  when  they 
dream  of  a  friend,  he  is  double.  This  fact  well  shows  the 
dependence  of  our  mental  images  on  our  senses.  If  we 
hold  a  pencil  between  us  and  the  sky  and  focus  our  eyes 
on  a  distant  cloud,  we  shall  see  two  hazy  images  of  the 
pencil.  When  such  occasional  instances  occur  in  ordinary 
life,  we  simply  pay  no  attention  to  the  second  image,  just 
as  we  do  not  heed  the  striking  of  a  clock  when  we  are  seri- 
ously engaged. 


THE  NERVOUS   MECHANISM.  37 

If  an  object  vanishes  after  having  been  seen  for  a 
second,  the  effect  always  lasts  on  the  retina  for  an  appre- 
ciable length  of  time.  If  a  firebrand  is  rapidly  revolved, 
it  appears  to  be  a  complete  circle  of  fire.  When  the  sen- 
sation is  very  strong,  as  in  the  case  of  an  electric  light, 
the  after  effect  may  last  for  several  minutes.  If  we 
look  at  differently  colored  objects  close  together,  a  certain 
amount  of  retinal  impression  from  each  lasts  to  color  the 
sensation  from  the  next  object.  This  furnishes  a  physical 
analogy  to  the  mental  process  of  apperception,  where  the 
mental  perception  of  a  new  object  is  influenced  by  what 
we  have  before  experienced,  so  that  the  product  is  a  re- 
sultant of  both  perceptions. 

The  only  direct  and  unaided  office  of  the  eye  is  to  tell 
different  shades  of  color  and  intensities  of  light.  We 
shall  see  that  everything  else  that  it  seems  to  tell  us  is  a 
product  of  inference.  But  the  eye  is  sometimes  wrong  in 
reporting  simple  sensations.  "  Suppose,  e.g.,  that  you  cut 
little  squares  from  the  same  gray  paper,  and  lay  them 
upon  red,  green,  yellow,  and  blue  papers,  placed  side  by 
side.  They  all  look  different :  that  on  the  red  is  greenish; 
that  on  the  green,  reddish;  that  on  the  yellow,  bluish; 
that  on  the  blue,  yellowish  "  (5).  Herschel  says  that  the 
eyes  of  the  workers  on  mosaics  at  the  Vatican  distinguished 
correctly  between  30,000  different  shades  of  color. 

The  Sense  of  Hearing.  —  The  ear  and  the  auditory 
nerve  are  the  organs  which  transmit  to  the  brain  the 
effect  of  atmospheric  vibrations.  The  ear  is  a  labyrinthine 
cavity  so  constructed  as  best  to  convey  these  sound  waves 
to  the  auditory  nerve.  The  psychologist  is  not  specially 
concerned  with  these  intricate  windings  or  with  the  mechan- 
ical principles  involved.  It  is  important  for  him  to  know 


38  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

that  the  sound  waves  affect  the  inner  ear,  set  the  auditory 
nerve  in  action,  and  that  this  action  is  transmitted  to  the 
brain.  (See  Fig.  18.) 

Individual  ears  differ  much  in  their  capacity  for  re- 
ceiving atmospheric  vibrations.  The  rates  of  vibration 
between  which  sounds  are  most  commonly  heard  are  from 
30  to  30,000  in  a  second.  A  lower  rate  of  vibration  than 


FlG.  18. —  Section  of  the  ear  (Czermak).  M,  outer  ear;  G,  external  auditory 
canal ;  T,  membrane  of  the  tympanum ;  R,  opening  of  the  Eustachian  tube  into 
the  pharynx;  P,  cavity  of  the  tympanum  ;  Pt,  scala  tympani ;  Vt,  scala  vestibuli; 
V,  vestibule ;  B,  semicircular  canal ;  5,  cochlea ;  A,  auditory  nerve. 

16  in  a  second  does  not  affect  the  auditory  nerve  suffi- 
ciently to  cause  hearing.  Beyond  36,000,  the  rapidity  is 
so  great  that  no  sound  is  heard. 

Our  ears  give  different  sensations  according  as  sounds 
vary  in  certain  characteristics,  (i)  The  pitch,  or  the  num- 
ber of  the  vibrations,  differs.  Thus,  the  creaking  of  a  rusty 
hinge  is  unlike  the  resonance  of  a  bass  drum.  The  pitch 


THE  NERVOUS    MECHANISM.  39 

of  the  human  voice  in  singing  is  usually  between  87  and 
768  vibrations  a  second,  although  Nilsson's  voice  is  said  to 
have  reached  1365.  We  see  that  the  range  of  the  ear  is  far 
beyond  these.  (2)  Sounds  vary  in  intensity,  or  in  the  am- 
plitude, of  the  vibrations.  The  noise  made  by  a  mosquito 
differs  from  the  roar  of  a  cannon.  (3)  The  quality  differs 
according  to  the  agent  producing  the  sound.  A  flute,  a 
trombone,  a  cornet,  and  a  harp  may  all  be  playing  the  same 
tune,  but  the  quality  of  sound  emitted  by  each  instrument 
varies.  (4)  The  relation  of  one  sound  to  another  varies,  so 
that  either  harmony  or  discord,  music  or  a  noise,  is  the  result. 
Aural  sensations  persist  for  some  time  after  the  cessa- 
tion of  the  atmospheric  vibrations.  Thus,  we  can  hear  the 
ringing  of  a  bell  after  it  has  stopped.  It  is  also  sometimes 
impossible  to  distinguish  between  a  present  and  a  remem- 
bered sound.  We  will  often  find  it  hard  to  decide  whether 
the  ringing  of  the  bell,  which  we  seem  to  hear  some  time 
after  its  cessation,  is  due  to  the  persistence  of  the  sensation 
in  the  ear  or  to  the  activity  of  a  cerebral  memory  cell.  It 
is  well  to  note  this  fact,  for  it  helps  us  the  better  to  under- 
stand the  primary  causes  of  illusion. 

The  Sense  of  Smell.  —  The  cavity  of  the  nostrils  is  lined 
with  a  mucous  membrane  filled  with  nerves  of  general 
sensibility  as  well  as  of  smell.  In  order  to  stimulate  the 
olfactory  nerves  and  arouse  a  sensation  of  smell,  air  con- 
taining odorous,  gaseous  particles  must  come  in  contact 
with  the  nerves  of  the  mucous  membrane.  The  qualities 
of  smell  are  so  many  and  so  indefinitely  separated  that  it 
is  useless  to  attempt  a  classification.  Sensations  in  our 
noses  are  often  compounds  of  smell,  touch,  and  taste. 

The  intensity  of  an  odor  depends  on  the  number  of 
gaseous  molecules  which  the  substance  emits  and  the 


4O  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

intensity  of  affection  of  the  olfactory  nerves.  Musk  is  very 
odorous,  as  it  gives  off  many  molecules,  thus  affecting  a 
large  nervous  surface  in  the  nose.  Ammonia  gives  off 
fewer  molecules,  but  they  affect  the  nerves  more  violently. 

The  Sense  of  Taste.  —  In  the  tongue  there  are  myriad 
little  cellular  bodies  called  taste  buds.  When  a  soluble 
substance,  like  quinine  or  sugar,  is  placed  on  the  tongue, 
these  taste  buds  are  affected,  probably  in  a  chemical  way. 
This  affection  stimulates  the  connecting  gustatory  nerves, 
which  transmit  the  excitement  to  the  brain,  thus  causing 
the  sensation  of  taste.  We  can  easily  recognize  four  taste 
sensations,  —  bitter,  sweet,  sour,  and  salt.  The  almost 
numberless  sensations  shading  off  from  these  are  products 
of  both  smell  and  touch.  "  The  pleasantness  of  many  sorts 
of  food  (e.g.  jelly)  is  certainly  derived  chiefly  from  their 
effect  upon  the  delicate  skin  of  the  palate,  and  is,  there- 
fore, much  more  a  question  of  touch  than  of  taste.  In  the 
wider  sense  in  which  it  is  customary  to  speak  of  taste,  the 
Shah  of  Persia  was  right  when  he  reproached  Europeans 
(who  used  knives  and  forks)  for  not  knowing  that  the 
sense  of  taste  begins  in  the  finger  tips  "  (6). 

SPEED  OF  NERVE  TRANSMISSION. 

Transmission  of  Nervous  Stimuli  Requires  Time. — 
We  have  seen  that  the  tactile,  optic,  auditory,  olfactory, 
and  gustatory  nerves  pour  currents  into  the  brain,  which 
result  in  sensation.  Both  nervous  and  mental  processes 
take  time.  Nerve  currents  have  been  likened  to  elec- 
tricity, but  the  rate  of  nervous  transmission  is  far  slower. 

A  sensory  nerve  conducts  a  message  at  the  average  rate 
of  1 1 1  feet  a  second.  If  a  man  had  an  arm  1 1 1  feet  long, 


THE  NERVOUS  MECHANISM.  4 1 

one  second  would  elapse  from  the  time  his  finger  was 
pricked  before  he  felt  pain.  Some  of  the  older  meta- 
physicians used  to  teach  that  the  soul  came  into  actual 
contact  with  matter  at  the  finger  tips.  A  study  of  our 
nervous  mechanism  has  completely  shattered  this  assump- 
tion. If  a  man  had  an  arm  sufficiently  long  to  plunge  into 
the  sun's  vaporous  metal,  140  years  would  roll  by  before 
he  felt  any  pain.  In  other  words,  he  would  die  before 
the  soul  knew  that  the  hand  was  burned.  A  motor  nerve 
also  transmits  a  command  from  the  brain  to  the  muscle 
at  the  rate  of  1 1 1  feet  a  second.  Suppose  an  orange 
tree  ninety-three  millions  of  miles  in  height ;  and  the  hand 
on  an  arm  of  that  length  already  lying  on  a  bough  one  foot 
from  a  desired  orange.  The  mind  issues  a  command  to 
grasp  the  fruit.  This  order  would  reach  the  hand  in  140 
years,  and  not  until  then  would  the  hand  grasp  the  fruit 

Reaction  Time.  —  The  time  necessary  for  the  simplest 
form  of  reaction  is  determined  in  this  way  :  A  person's  fin- 
ger is  touched,  and  it  is  arranged  that  as  soon  as  he  feels  the 
touch  he  shall  move  his  foot.  In  this  process  we  may  call 
attention  to  four  different  elements,  (i)  There  is  the  time 
occupied  by  the  sensory  nerve  in  transmitting  the  sensa- 
tion from  the  finger  to  the  brain.  (2)  There  is  the  time 
taken  by  the  brain  or  mind  in  perceiving  this  sensation 
after  it  is  registered  on  the  cortex.  (3)  There  is  the 
period  occupied  in  issuing  a  motor  fiat,  or  in  willing  to 
move  the  foot.  (4)  There  is  the  time  consumed  by  the 
motor  nerve  in  carrying  this  command  to  move  the  foot. 
Since  we  know  that  the  time  occupied  by  the  sensory  and 
the  motor  nerves  in  transmitting  impulses  is  about  1 1 1  feet 
per  second,  we  can  compute  the  period  taken  in  the  brain 
to  perceive  the  sensation  and  to  will  a  movement  (i)  and 


42  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

(4)  are  purely  physiological  times.  The  periods  of  percep- 
tion and  of  willing,  (2)  and  (3),  are  known  as  the  mental 
time,  which  in  such  a  case  as  this  is  about  one  fifteenth  of 
a  second.  The  time  consumed  in  all  four  of  these  proc- 
esses is  generally  greater  than  one  tenth  and  less  than  one 
fifth  of  a  second  ;  but  these  times  are  only  approximate, 
since  they  vary  with  the  individual,  with  the  time  of  year 
and  time  of  life,  with  bodily  condition,  with  the  kind  and 
intensity  of  the  stimulus,  with  the  direction  of  the  atten- 
tion, and  with  the  amount  of  expectation  involved. 

The  times  given  above  are  those  taken  by  a  subject  who 
knows  beforehand  exactly  what  signal  is  to  be  given  him 
and  the  responsive  movement  which  he  is  to  make.  If  he 
was  told  that  when  his  right  finger  was  touched,  he  was  to 
move  the  left  foot,  but  when  the  signal  was  given  to  his 
left  finger,  his  right  foot  was  to  be  moved,  the  mental  time 
would  be  nearly  double  that  given  above.  There  would 
here  be  a  new  element  of  discrimination,  and  that  would 
consume  the  additional  time. 

The  time  employed  in  associating  one  idea  with  another 
naturally  depends  on  many  factors.  Sir  Francis  Galton 
found  that  the  average  time  between  the  sight  of  a  word, 
and  the  appearance  in  consciousness  of  a  new  idea  asso- 
ciated with  that  word,  was  about  five  sixths  of  a  second. 
But  the  important  fact  to  remember  is  that  all  nervous  and 
mental  processes  take  an  appreciable  amount  of  time. 

AUTHORITIES   QUOTED. 

1.  See  Foster's  Text  Book  of  Physiology,  p.  813. 

2.  James's  Principles  of  Psychology,  Vol.  II.,  p.  402. 

3.  M'Kendrick  and  Snodgrass's  Physiology  of  the  Senses,  p.  14. 

4.  Kirke's  Handbook  of  Physiology,  pp.  727-8. 

5.  Wundt's  Lectures  on  Human  and  Animal  Psychology,  p.  113 

6.  Hoffding's  Outlines  of  Psychology,  p.  102. 


CHAPTER   II. 

*jj^\  CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  ATTENTION. 

Yv 

Nature  of  Mind  and  Matter.  —  It  used  to  be  the  fashion 

to  begin  psychologies  with  a  discussion  concerning  the 
material  or  immaterial  nature  of  the  mind.  It  has  been 
well  said  that  psychology  is  no  more  bound  to  begin  by 
telling  what  mind  is,  than  physics  is  obliged  to  start  by 
settling  the  vexed  question  as  to  what  matter  is.  Psy- 
chology studies  the  phenomena  of  mind,  just  as  physics 
investigates  those  of  matter. 

Fortunately,  phenomena  do  not  change  with  our  varying 
views  as  to  what  things  really  are.  The  phenomena  of 
electricity  remain  the  same  whether  we  consider  it  a  fluid, 
a  repulsion  of  molecules,  or  vibrations  of  the  ether.  If  a 
man  held  the  strange  theory  that  electricity  was  a  flock  of 
invisible  molecular  goats  that  pranced  along  a  wire  with 
inconceivable  rapidity,  he  would  still  have  to  insulate  the 
wires  in  the  same  way,  generate  the  current  in  the  same 
way.  A  strong  discharge  would  kill  him  as  quickly  as  if 
he  held  a  different  theory.  In  short,  his  views  of  the 
ultimate  substance  of  electricity  would  in  nowise  change 
its  phenomena. 

If  any  materialist  should  hold  that  the  mind  was  nothing 
but  the  brain,  and  that  the  brain  was  a  vast  aggregation 
of  molecular  sheep  herding  together  in  various  ways,  his 
hypothesis  would  not  change  the  fact  that  senaatiorunust 
precede  perception,  memory,  and  thought ;  nor  would  the 
laws  of  the  association  of  ideas  be  changed,  nor  would 

43 


44  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

the  fact  that  interest  and  repetition  aid  memory  cease  to 
hold  good.  The  man  who  thought  his  mind  was  a  collec- 
tion of  little  cells  would  dream,  imagine,  think,  and  feel;  so 
also  would  he  who  believed  his  mind  to  be  immaterial.  It 
is  very  fortunate  that  the  same  mental  phenomena  occur, 
no  matter  what  theory  is  adopted.  Those  who  like  to  study 
the  puzzles  as  to  what  mind  and  matter  really  are,  must  go 
to  metaphysics.  Should  we  ever  find  that  salt,  arsenic, 
and  all  things  else,  are  the  same  substance  with  a  different 
molecular  arrangement,  we  should  still  not  use  them  in- 
terchangeably. 

CONSCIOUSNESS. 

Definition.  —  Consciousness  is  that  indefinable  character^ 
istic  of  mental  states  which  causes  us  to  be  aware  of  themj 
The  full  growth  of  ideas,  the  development  of  associations 
between  them,  and  the  processes  involved  in  emotion,  are 
not  always  limited  to  the  sphere  of  consciousness.  Full- 
fledged  ideas  frequently  start  into  consciousness.  We 
sometimes  dream  or  suddenly  think  of  a  solution,  which 
is  the  result  of  unconscious  brain  activity  working  toward 
a  given  end.  Sometimes  a  genius  writes  a  work,  the 
full  splendor  of  which  he  is  not  aware  of  until  after  its 
completion.  There  were  in  him  forces,  partly  unconscious, 
tending  toward  the  wonderful  result. 

When  we  become  unconscious  from  a  blow  on  the  head, 
or  from  sleep,  we  no  longer  know  any  mental  occurrences. 
By  contrasting  these  two  states,  we  shall  have  a  better  idea 
of  consciousness.  The  atoms  in  a  granite  rock  may  be  in 
a  state  of  constant  vibration,  but  we  can  hardly  imagine 
the  rock  to  be  aware  of  the  fact.  The  light  of  a  beautiful 
sunset  may  be  reflected  upon  the  rock ;  but  there  is  no 
consciousness  in  the  rock  of  the  splendor. 


CONSCIOUSNESS   AND   ATTENTION.  45 

Strictly  speaking,  consciousness  is  incapable  of  defini- 
tion. To  define  anything,  we  are  obliged  to  express  that 
thing  in  terms  of  something  else.  When  we  say  that 
sugar  is  a  sweet  substance,  and  are  asked  what  a  sweet 
substance  is,  we  reply  that  honey,  maple  syrup,  sorghum, 
will  give  a  fair  idea  of  such  a  substance.  Now,  there  is 
nothing  else  in  the  world  like  consciousness,  hence  wt 
can  define  it  only  in  terms  of  itself,  and  that  is  very  much 
like  trying  to  lift  one's  self  by  one's  boot  straps.  If  a 
person  had  never  eaten  sugar,  we  could  give  him  an  idea 
of  it  if  he  was  familiar  with  honey  and  other  sweet  things  ; 
but  if  he  did  not  have  a  rudimentary  idea  of  what  con- 
sciousness is,  from  its  possession,  ages  of  explanation  would 
fail  to  make  him  understand.  The  blind  man  thought  that 
scarlet  must  resemble  the  sound  of  a  trumpet.  That  was 
the  best  idea  of  the  color  that  he  could  form. 

Consciousness  is  one  of  the  greatest  mysteries  that  con- 
fronts us.  Huxley  rightly  says  :  "  How  it  is  that  anything 
so  remarkable  as  a  state  of  consciousness  comes  about  by 
the  result  of  irritating  nervous  tissue,  is  just  as  unac- 
countable as  the  appearance  of  the  jinnee  when  Aladdin 
rubbed  his  lamp." 

It  is  usual  to  discriminate  between  consciousness  and  self- 
consciousness.  The  difference  between  the  two  states  may 
be  seen  in  such  examples  as  these  :  When  I  see  a  child 
run  over  and  killed,  I  am  conscious  of  the  event,  but  do 
not  think  of  myself.  The  stream  of  conscious  attention  is 
here  directed  outward.  When  I  find  myself  thinking  of 
New  Zealand  and  wonder  how  that  came  to  mind,  when  I 
direct  the  mental  gaze  imvard  to  find  a  connection  between 
that  idea  and  the  preceding  one,  I  am  self-conscious.  When 
I  think  of  my  own  hopes  and  fears,  of  the  difference  between 
myself  and  another  person,  and  wonder  how  the  content  of 


46  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

his  consciousness  resembles  mine,  I  am  self-conscious. 
Self-consciousness  is  a  growth.  Many  persons  never  have 
more  than  a  misty  idea  of  such  a  mental  attitude.  They 
always  take  themselves  for  granted,  and  never  turn  the 
gaze  inward. 

Distinction   between    Subjective   and    Objective.  —  The 

mind's  attitude  is  called  subjective  when  the  mental  gaze  is 
turned  within  itself  to  notice  what  is  taking  place.  The 
mental  state  is  termed  objective  when  the  mind  is  looking 
at  things  in  the  outside  world.  A  good  novelist  is  first 
busied  with  objective  study.  He  searches  for  characters 
and  plots,  or  suggestions  for  them,  in  the  outside  world. 
When,  by  this  means,  he  has  formed  definite  ideas  in  suffi- 
cient quantity,  he  writes  his  novel.  During  the  period  of 
composition,  he  is  busy  marshaling  these  subjective  mental 
objects.  When  Bunyan  wrote  his  Pilgrims  Progress,  sub- 
jective pictures  thronged  before  him.  He  had  found  the 
necessary  objective  material  for  them  in  the  Puritan  army 
and  its  opponents,  and  in  the  Bible. 

The  student  of  psychology  must  learn  to  have  a  clear 
idea  of  mental  objects.  This  may  occasion  him  some 
trouble  at  the  start,  for  they  are  unlike  anything  else. 
He  has  been  used  to  those  objects  which  he  could  touch, 
taste,  hear,  see,  or  smell ;  but  mental  objects  can  be 
known  by  none  of  the  senses.  The  bodily  eye  does  not 
tell  us  that  we  are  calling  up  the  face  of  an  absent  friend. 
The  image  of  the  face  is  just  as  distinct  with  our  eyes 
shut.  There  is  neither  touch  nor  sound  when  mental 
objects  are  linked  together  in  thought. 

Necessity  of  the  Study  of  Consciousness.  —  No  one  would 
ever  find  out  from  the  study  of  physiology  alone  that  con- 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  ATTENTION.  47 

sciousness  existed.  He  might  dissect  a  Socrates,  he  might 
trepan  a  living  Newton,  but  the  dissector  would  never 
reach  the  thought.  He  might  see  the  gray  matter  in 
unusual  activity,  but  not  the  emotions  of  love  or  fear,  the 
memories  of  childhood,  the  thoughts  which  advanced  the 
world.  The  man  who  stops  with  the  study  of  physiology, 
will  never  touch  the  hem  of  the  robes  of  imagination, 
thought,  emotion,  or  will.  On  the  other  hand  consciousness 
would  never  reveal  to  man  the  fact  that  he  had  a-braifk 

Nevertheless,  it  is  true  that  the  old  psychology,  which 
derived  its  knowledge  from  the  study  of  consciousness 
alone,  was  one-sided  ;  for  it  did  not  sufficiently  take  into 
account  the  fact  that  mental  operations  are  conditioned 
by  nervous  matter.  But  the  old  psychology  was  not  so 
one-sided  as  the  material  school,  which  would  leave  con- 
sciousness entirely  out  of  account. 

In  the  study  of  psychology,  we  are  therefore  obliged  to 
make  use  of  introspection,  which  is  only  another  term  for 
consciousness  forcibly  directed  toward  mental  operations. 
By  introspection,  we  watch  the  stream  of  ideas  flowing 
through  the  mind,  and  notice  how  they  are  connected, 
what  new  combinations  they  are  capable  of  forming,  and 
what  laws  they  obey. 

\ Mental  Objects  Precede  all  Material  Invention.  |— Those 
who  exclusively  study  flowers,  rocks,  metals,  or  animals, 
may  think  that  psychology  deals  only  with  "  such  stuff  as 
dreams  are  made  of,"  that  all  its  objects  are  airy  phantoms 
of  little  worth.  Such  students  may  say  that  they  can  see 
some  use  in  an  objective  bridge,  none  whatever  in  a  sub- 
jective one.  But  they  must  remember  that  the  Brooklyn 
Bridge  first  existed  in  the  mind  before  the  structure 
became  an  objective  reality.  The  projectors  had  first  to 


48  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

plan  what  they  intended  to  do.  Then  they  had  to  put  these 
plans  on  paper  in  the  form  of  drawings,  the  mind  going 
before  the  pencil,  and  telling  the  fingers  where  to  put 
the  next  line.  Only  after  the  mental  object  was  complete, 
was  matter  slowly  poured  into  this  mental  mold.  Only 
then  did  that  wonderful  bridge,  connecting  two  great 
cities,  become  a  reality.  The  same  is  true  of  every  step 
in  material  progress,  from  the  invention  of  the  sewing 
machine  to  that  of  the  telephone.  In  the  battle  of  life, 
those  succeed  best  who  can  form  definite  ideas  of  what 
they  are  going  to  do,  before  they  start  to  do  it.  Others 
are  prone  to  get  into  trouble,  and  are  often  forced  to 
retrace  their  steps. 

The  Subconscious  Field. — It  must  not  be  supposed  that 
the  mind  is  at  any  one  time  conscious  of  all  its  materials 
and  powers.  At  any  moment  we  are  not  conscious  of  a 
thousandth  part  of  what  we  know.  It  is  well  that  such 
is  the  case;  for  when  we  are  studying  an  object  under  a 
microscope,  trying  to  memorize  poetry,  demonstrating  a 
geometrical  proposition,  or  learning  a  Latin  verb,  we 
should  not  want  all  we  knew  of  history  and  physics,  or 
images  of  the  persons,  trees,  dogs,  birds,  or  horses,  that 
we  remembered,  to  rush  into  our  minds  at  the  same  time. 
If  they  did  so,  our  mental  confusion  would  be  indescrib- 
able. Between  the  perception  and  the  recall,  the  treas- 
ures of  memory  are,  metaphorically  speaking,  away  from 
the  eye  of  consciousness.  How  these  facts  are  preserved, 
before  they  are  reproduced  by  the  call  of  memory,  con- 
sciousness can  never  tell  us.  An  event  may  not  be 
thought  of  for  fifty  years,  and  then  it  may  suddenly  appear 
in  consciousness. 

As   we   grow  older,  the    subconscious   field   increases. 


CONSCIOUSNESS   AND   ATTENTION.  49 

When  we  first  began  to  walk,  we  were  conscious  of  every 
step.  Later,  we  can  talk  about  the  deepest  subjects  while 
we  are  walking,  and  not  even  think  of  the  steps  we  are 
taking.  We  sometimes  wind  our  watches  without  being 
conscious  of  the  operation,  as  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  we 
again  test  them  to  see  if  we  have  wound  them. 


Difference  in  States  of  Consciousness.  —  At  various  times, 
states  of  consciousness  differ  in  several  respects  :  (i)  The 
intensity  differs.  At  one  time,  we  are  a  trifle  angry  ;  at 
another,  we  quiver  with  rage.  Now  we  are  studying  with 
a  sort  of  diffused  consciousness  ;  now,  with  intense  effort. 
(2)  The  extent  of  the  conscious  field  differs.  Now  con- 
sciousness embraces  only  one  thing  at  a  time  ;  shortly 
after,  several  things.  (3)  The  speed  of  objects  varies  in 
crossing  the  conscious  field.  At  one  time,  ideas  come  to 
us  slowly  ;  at  another,  they  jostle  each  other  in  a  mad  rush. 
(4)  Most  important  of  all,  states  of  consciousness  differ  in 
quality.  We  are  conscious  of  a  difference  between  a  state 
of  thought  and  of  emotion. 

Classification  of  Different  Mental  States.  —  No  one  can 
successfully  dispute  the  fact  that  consciousness  reveals  to 
us  a  difference  in  our  mental  states.  Using  this  difference 
as  a  basis,  we  may  proceed  to  classify  them,  remembering 
that,  though  all  mental  powers  may  be  more  or  less  promi- 
nent in  all  states,  we  are  to  name  the  state  from  the 
dominant  element.  If  the  units  of  energy  at  the  mind's 
disposal  are  represented  as  one  hundred,  divided  in  vary- 
ing degree  between  intellectual,  emotional,  and  voluntary 
action,  and  if  at  one  time,  in  a  fit  of  rage,  there  are  ninety 
units  expended  in  emotional  action,  five  each  in  intel- 
lectual and  voluntary  action,  then  this  should  be  called  an 
HAIXECK'S  PSYC.  —  4 


50  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 

emotional  state.  When  Newton  was  trying  to  demonstrate 
the  analogy  between  the  earth's  action  on  a  falling  apple 
and  on  the  moon,  his  mental  state  was  chiefly  intellectual, 
although  he  at  the  same  time  felt  emotional  interest  in 
his  work,  and  also  voluntarily  pursued  it. 

When  we  notice  our  friends,  it  is  beyond  dispute  that 
we  see  them  glad  at  one  time,  sorrowful  at  another ;  now 
in  determined  action,  and  again  sitting  down  quietly  to 
think  out  some  problem.  We  realize  that  the  person  who 
to-day  is  in  a  rage  is  the  same  one  who  yesterday  was 
laughing.  The  human  mind  is  a  many-sided  whole,  capa- 
ble of  acting  in  various  ways.  Now  it  is  occupied  chiefly 
with  intellectual  action,  now  with  feeling,  and  now  with 
determination.  It  was  once  the  fashion  to  regard  th^  mind 
as  a  structure  with  three  different  major  compartments. 
In  one  compartment,  intellectual  action  was  carried  on ;  in 
another,  emotional ;  in  a  third,  volitional. .'  It  was  thought 
that  the  occupants  of  one  compartment  rested  while  those 
of  another  were  busy.  We  now  know  that  the  mind  is  a  unit 
acting  as  one  individual.  Just  as  it  is  the  same  small  boy, 
now  running,  now  walking,  now  climbing  a  fence,  now  play- 
ing baseball ;  so  it  is  the  same  mental  energy,  now  busied  in 
intellectual  action,  now  in  ejnotional,  and  now  in  .volitional. 

Intellect,  Emotion,  Will.  —  Recollecting  the  character  of 
the  mind,  we  may  make  a  three-fold  classification  of  its 
major  functions  into  intellect,  feeling  or  emotion,  and  will. 
We  have  at  one  time  felt  that  the  greater  part  of  our  mental 
energies  was  expended  in  looking  at  things,  in  remember- 
ing them,  or  in  thinking  about  them  ;  at  another,  we  were 
not  conscious  of  being  much  else  but  happy  or  wretched  ; 
at  still  another,  we  were  determining  and  carrying  that 
determination  into  effect. 


CONSCIOUSNESS  AND  ATTENTION.  51 

Intellectual  action  is  mental  energy  expended  in  per- 
ceiving, remembering,  imagining,  and  thinking.  In  emo- 
tional action,  the  mind  is  mainly  occupied  with  feeling 
pleasure  or  pain.  In  willing,  the  mind  is  busied  with 
acting  or  refraining  from  action. 

Perception,  Representation,  Thought.  —  We  have  seen 
that  intellectual  action  is  one  of  the  three  sides  of  mental 
action.  Now,  intellectual  action  itself  has  three  different 
sides,  according  as  we  are  busy  perceiving,  remembering 
or  imagining,  or  thinking.  In  actual 
life  these  all  go  together  like  an  apple 
and  its  color.  But  for  convenience  of 
3  study,  we  may  keep  in  our  minds  the 
image  of  a  right-angled  triangle.  (See 
Fig.  19.)  On  the  base  line  we  may  put 
emotion ;  on  the  perpendicular,  will ; 
FIG.  19.  — Diagram  and  on  the  hypotenuse,  joining  the  two, 
totenect  On  this  hypotenuse  we 
may  put  toward  the  base,  perception; 
next,  representation ;  and,  highest  of  the  three,  thought. 
This  will  give  us  a  fair  idea  of  necessary  mental  classi 
fication. 

All  the  Mental  Powers  are  Factors  in  a  Complete  Mental 
Act.  —  We  are  constantly  busied  with  things  which  bring 
into  play  all  the  powers  of  the  mind.  A  boy  looks  into 
a  garden  and  sees  a  tree  laden  with  fruit.  This  mental 
activity  is  chiefly  perception.  The  tree  is  at  some  little 
distance,  and  he  is  puzzled  to  decide  whether  the  branches 
are  laden  with  apples  or  quinces.  He  calls  up  by  the 
representative  power  mental  images  of  former  quinces  that 
he  has  seen.  Next,  he  proceeds  to  compare  the  fruit 


EMOTION 


52  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

before  him  with  this  image,  and  he  decides  that  both  the 
color  and  the  shape  differ  somewhat  from  those  of  the 
quince.  In  this  activity  he  is  thinking.  He  is  pleased 
with  the  juicy-looking  fruit.  Memories  come  to  him  of 
the  pleasure  experienced  in  eating  other  apples,  and  with 
those  memories  comes  emotion.  But  still  he  stands  there. 
The  mental  state  is  incomplete.  The  more  he  looks  at  the 
apples,  the  more  he  wants  them,  the  stronger  becomes  his 
emotion.  But  he  soon  finds  out  that  to  want  and  to  feel 
do  not  bring  the  apples  to  him.  A  high  fence  is  between 
him  and  them.  Finally  his  will  causes  him  to  act.  He 
climbs  the  fence,  plucks  the  fruit,  and  begins  to  eat.  This 
boy  has  now  brought  every  mental  power  into  play.  He 
has  perceived,  remembered,  thought,  felt,  acted ;  and  he  is 
now,  in  consequence,  eating  the  fruit. 


ATTENTION. 

What  is  Attention?  —  Attention  is  not  a  new  faculty 
any  more  than  a  boy,  who  rose  from  his  seat  and 
began  to  run  hard,  is  a  different  individual  from  what  he 
was  when  sitting.  Attention  is  the  focusing  of  conscious- 
ness ;  or,  as  some  express  it,  attention  is  detention  in 
consciousness.  The  sun  may  scatter  its  rays  over  a  large 
surface ;  or  we  may  focus  them  in  a  sun  glass,  so  as 
to  burn  a  hole  through  a  plank  or  to  boil  water.  The 
mind  may  spread  its  consciousness  dimly  over  many 
things ;  or  it  may  narrow  the  field  of  attention  and  make 
vast  progress  in  some  one  line.  It  is  true  that  if  things 
are  easy  and  familiar,  we  may  attend  to  several  different 
things  at  a  time  ;  but  if  new  and  difficult,  in  order  to 
advance  most  rapidly,  the  attention  must  be  centered  upon 
one  thing. 


CONSCIOUSNESS   AND   ATTENTION.  53 

As  regards  direction,  there  are  two  kinds  of  attention  ; 
the  one  directed  within  upon  mental  objects,  the  other 
directed  outward  upon  external  objects. 

From  the  point  of  view  of  the  effort  involved,  there  are 
also  two  phases  of  attention  :  (i)  reflex,  and  (2)  voluntary 
attention.  Reflex  attention  is  drawn  from  us  by  a  nervous 
response  to  some  stimulus.  Voluntary  attention  is  given 
by  us  to  some  object  of  our  own  selection  and  is  accompa- 
nied by  a  peculiar  sense  of  effort.  Many  persons  scarcely 
get  beyond  the  reflex  stage.  Any  chance  stimulus  will  take 
their  attention  away  from  their  studies  or  their  business. 

.  •  Factors  in  Attention.  —  There  are  two  main  factors  in 

attention  :   (i)  the  condition  of  the  brain  and  nervous  sys- 
\  /  j 

fi&  tern,  and  (2)  the  quantity  and  quality  of  the  stimulus  which 
the  object  furnishes.  The  attention  which  a  sickly  or  a 
poorly  nourished  person  can  give  is  not  at  all  comparable 
that  which  could  come  from  the  same  person  if  vigorous. 
An  inferior  or  an  unhealthy  brain  has  comparatively  little 
power  of  attention.  If  a  person  lives  on  a  skimmed  milk 
diet,  he  will  think  skimmed  milk  thoughts.  That  nation 
proverbially  known  as  beefeaters  has  furnished  to  the 
world  the  greatest  literature  of  all  time. 

The  quantity  and  the  quality  of  the  stimulus  have  an 
important  effect  upon  the  attention.  A  terrific  peal  of 
thunder  or  a  blinding  flash  of  lightning  will  take  our 
attention  away  from  almost  any  object.  A  change  in  the 
stimulus  will  frequently  arrest  the  .attention.  A  clergy- 
man, talking  in  loud  tones,  was  astonished  to  see  some 
of  his  congregation  asleep.  He  uttered  a  sentence  in  a 
sepulchral  whisper,  and  several  of  them  awoke  at  once. 

The  Most  Important  Laws  of  Attention.  —  (i)  Attention 
will  not  attach  itself  firmly  to  uninteresting  things. 

1 


54  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

(2)  It  will  soon  decline  in  vigor,  (a)  if  the  stimulus  is 
unvarying,  or  (b]  if  some  new  attribute  is  not  discovered 
in  the  object.  (3)  Attention  cannot  remain  constant  in 
the  same  direction  for  a  long  period,  (a)  The  nervous 
apparatus  of  the  senses  soon  tire  under  the  strain  of  con- 
tinuous attention  toward  any  one  object,  and  consequently 
respond  with  less  vigor,  (b)  The  same  is  true  of  brain 
cells.  To  prove  the  truth  of  this,  one  has  only  to  focus 
the  eye  continuously  on  one  object  or  to  keep  the  attention 
fixed  on  the  same  phase  of  a  subject.  (4)  When  one  kind 
of  attention  is  exhausted,  we  may  rest  ourselves  in  two 
ways  :  (a)  by  giving  ourselves  up  to  the  play  of  reflex 
attention ;  (d)  by  directing  our  voluntary  attention  into  a 
new  channel.  The  amount  of  fatigue  must  determine 
which  is  the  better.  (5)  Attention  continuously  centered 
upon  the  same  unvarying  sensation,  or  upon  any  unchang- 
ing object,  has  been  proved  by  experiment  to  tend  to  induce 
either  the  hypnotic  state  or  a  comatose  condition. 

-i>  Attention  Develops  Interest.  —  When  it  is  said  that  atten- 
tion will  not  take  a  firm  hold  on  an  uninteresting  thing,  we 
must  not  forget  that  any  one  not  shallow  and  fickle  can 
soon  discover  something  interesting  in  most  objects.  Here 
cultivated  minds  show  their  especial  superiority,  for  the 
attention  which  they  are  able  to  give  generally  ends  in 
finding  a  pearl  in  the  most  uninteresting  looking  oyster. 
When  an  object  necessarily  loses  interest  from  one  point 
of  view,  such  minds  discover  in  it  new  attributes.  The 
essence  of  genius  is  to  present  an  old  thing  in  new  ways, 
whether  it  be  some  force  in  nature  or  some  aspect  of 
humanity. 

Importance  of  Attention.  —  There  is  a  constant  struggle 
on   the   part  of   sensations  to   survive   in   consciousness. 


I       ^\\  _1 '        •        J-          ~J\         t\    T 

\  \^    Co    uCoL*x_fl.     £L.  ^/>    4dL>n.  '«  • 

CONSCIOUSNESS   AND   ATTENTION.  55 

That  sensation  which  we  allow  to  take  the  most  forcible 
hold  on  the  attention  usually  wins  the  day.  If  we  sit 
by  an  open  window  in  the  country  on  a  summer  day, 
we  may  have  many  stimuli  knocking  at  the  gate  of 
attention  :  the  ticking  of  a  clock,  the  sound  of  the  wind, 
the  cackling  of  fowl,  the  quacking  of  ducks,  the  barking 
of  dogs,  the  lowing  of  cows,  the  cries  of  children  at  play, 
the  rustling  of  leaves,  the  songs  of  birds,  the  rumbling  of 
wagons,  etc.  If  attention  is  centered  upon  any  one  of 
these,  that  one  for  the  time  being  acquires  the  importance 
of  a  king  upon  the  throne  of  our  mental  world.  But  none 
of  these  may  sway  our  thoughts,  for  our  attention  may  be 
forcibly  directed  to  some  other  object,  which  colors  our 
conscious  mental  life.  Hence  it  is  of  the  utmost  impor- 
tance for  our  mental  welfare  to  guard  the  gates  of  atten- 
tion. Some  persons  have  the  power  of  voluntary  attention 
developed  in  such  a  slight  degree,  that  it  has  been  well 
said  that  they  belong  less  to  themselves  than  to  any  object 
that  happens  to  strike  their  attention. 

Business  men  say  that  the  ability  to  gain  the  attention 
is  often  the  secret  of  success  in... life.  Enormous  salaries 
are  paid  to  persons  who  can  write  advertisements  certain 
to  catch  the  eye.  A  publisher  said  that  he  had  sold  only 
five  thousand  copies  of  an  excellent  work,  merely  because 
it  had  failed  to  catch  the  attention  of  many,  and  that 
twenty-five  thousand  copies  could  have  been  disposed  of 
in  the  same  time,  if  agents  had  forced  them  upon  the 
notice  of  people.  Druggists  say  that  any  kind  of  patent 
medicine  can  be  sold,  if  it  is  so  advertised  as  to  strike  the . 
attention  in  a  forcible  manner.  Business  life  has  largely 
resolved  itself  into  a  battle  to  secure  the  attention  of 
peopie^ 

C^j 


CHAPTER   III. 

PRESENTATION. 

The  Simplest  Knowledge  the  Result  of  Complex  Proc- 
esses. —  "I  see  a  large  red  apple  on  that  tree  about  two 
rods  the  other  side  of  the  road."  Many  persons  would 
think  this  statement  embodied  the  simplest  possible  knowl- 
edge, that  there  was  nothing  complex,  nothing  inferential 
in  seeing  a  red  apple  on  a  tree  at  a  little  distance.  "  I 
simply  use  my  eyes  and  see  the  apple,"  would  be  a  common 
unthinking  expression,  and  yet  every  power  at  the  disposal 
of  the  mind  is  woven  into  the  process  that  enables  us  to 
make  the  statement. 

A  person  who  opened  his  eyes  for  the  first  time  and 
looked  in  that  direction  would  see  no  apple.  He  would 
have  only  a  sensation  of  a  patch  of  red  color,  which  would 
seem  either  to  touch  his  eye  or  to  be  at  no  definite  distance 
from  it.  He  would  not  know  to  what  this  patch  of  color 
belonged  ;  he  would  not  have  the  remotest  idea  of  the  cause 
of  the  sensation.  But  an  intelligent  being  would  soon  be- 
come interested  in  his  sensations  ;  thus,  emotion  would  ap- 
pear as  a  mental  factor.  He  might  turn  his  head  away, 
lose  the  patch  of  color,  and  determine  to  find  it  again 
Here  the  power  of  will  would  be  at  work.  When  he  found 
the  color,  he  might  recognize  it,  and  thus  show  that 
memory  was  active.  His  eye  might  again  wander  from  the 
apple  and  rest  upon  the  tree  or  a  ruddy  cloud  beyond.  He 
would  now  experience  different,  sensations.  He  would  not 

56' 


^TVJLNWf** 
PRESENTATION. 

know  the  tree  and  cloud  as  such  ;  he  would  merely  have  a 
varying  sensation  of  color.  The  moment  he  detected  a 
difference,  two  more  mental  powers  would  be  active,  per- 
ception, and  comparison  or  thought.  Perception  would 
investigate  the  sensations  closely,  and  the  comparing  or 
thinking  power  would  notice  the  likeness  or  difference. 
Every  mental  power  would  now  be  at  work ;  but  it  will 
take  much  time  and  effort,  before  the  sensation  of  red 
color  can  be  translated  into  an  apple. 

Let  us  carefully  go  over  these  steps  again  in  the  case  of 
this  imaginary  person  exercising  the  sense  of  sight  for  the 
first  time,  (i)  He  has  a  sensation  of  a  ruddy  color  from 
an  unknown  source.  (2)  He  has  emotional  interest  in  this 
sensation.  (3)  When  he  loses  it,  he  turns  his  head  or  eyes 
to  find  the  source,  and  so  employs  will.  (4)  When  he 
finds  the  color,  he  remembers  it,  and  thus  displays  repre- 
sentative power,  or  memory.  (5)  He  has  other  sensations, 
perceives  them  carefully,  compares  them,  and  notices  a 
likeness  or  a  difference.  Here  perception  and  thought 
appear  together. 

Before  we  can  say  that  we  see  a  red  apple  on  a  tree  at  a 
certain  distance,  we  must  not  only  have  had  sensations  of 
sight  which  we  voluntarily  repeated  because  they  inter- 
ested us  on  the  emotional  side ;  we  must  not  only  have 
remembered  these  sensations,  perceived  them  attentively, 
and  compared  them  closely,  so  as  to  distinguish  the  ocular 
sensations  due  to  the  apple  from  those  caused  by  the  tree 
or  by  a  ruddy  cloud  beyond  :  but  we  must  also  have  had 
other  sensations  than  that  of  sight  from  the  apple.  We 
must  know  it,  if  blindfolded,  by  tactile  sensations ;  we 
must  be .  able  to  distinguish  its  odor  and  recognize  its 
taste ;  we  must  have  noticed  the  sound  when  the  fruit 
fell  from  the  tree. 


58  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

Some  of  these  sensations  will  be  indefinite  compared  with 
others;  but,  definite  or  indefinite,  they  must  all  be  woven 
together  by  the  mental  powers  into  the  complex  product, 
an  apple.  From  merely  seeing  an  apple,  one  forms  an 
idea  very  imperfect  compared  with  that  of  a  boy,  who  has 
eaten,  smelled,  and  handled  the  fruit,  and  perhaps  also 
heard  it  fall  in  an  orchard  or  on  the  floor.  In  order  that 
we  shall  again  .know  an  apple,  or  any  other  object  pre- 
sented to  the  senses,  the  sensations  produced  by  it,  and 
the  inferences  drawn  therefrom,  must  be  often  repeated. 

Before  we  can  say  that  we  see  the  apple  at  a  certain  dis- 
tance, we  must  remember  lights  and  shades  and  compara- 
tive  sizes.  We  must  have  treasured  up  muscular  experi- 
ences in  walking  or  in  throwing  a  stone,  a  certain  distance, 
or  in  accommodating  our  eyes  or  rolling  them  around. 
Not  until  we  can  translate  these  complex  experiences 
into  distance  can  we  say  that  the  apple  is  so  many  rods 
away.  Again,  before  we  can  know  the  apple  as  large,  that 
is,  as  occupying  space  in  three  dimensions,  we  must  go 
through  such  a  complex  process  in  comparing  and  dis- 
criminating our  tactual,  ocular  and  muscular  sensations, 
that  more  than  one  philosopher  has  declared  the  skein  of 
the  processes  leading  to  our  knowing  the  apple  in  space, 
too  tangled  to  be  unraveled. 

If  we  had  to  begin  now  and  go  through  all  the  expert 
ences  and  steps,  entitling  us  to  say,  "  I  see  a  large  red  apple 
on  that  tree  about  two  rods  the  other  side  of  the  road,"  we 
should  be  wearied  with  the  complexity  and  slowness.  It  is 
well  that  the  infant  begins  this  process  shortly  after  birth 
and  that  he  has  nothing  else  to  do  for  a  long  time. 

All  Knowledge  is  a  Resultant  of  all  the  Mental  Powers. 
—  What  we  have  said  about  the  apple  contains  the  germ 


PRESENTATION.  59 

of  all  psychology.  We  can  only  speak  more  fully 
of  the  processes  and  repeat  in  detail  what  has  been 
said  in  a  general  way.  If  a  flower  is  brought  to  us  to 
name,  we  have,  if  familiar  with  it,  a  web  of  knowledge 
woven  by  the  assistance  of  various  sensations,  memories, 
emotions,  acts  of  will,  perceptions,  and  comparisons.  We 
know  the  flower  and  plant  by  the  odor,  color,  shape  of 
leaf,  taste,  and  can  distinguish  them  from  all  others  by 
various  signs. 

The  mental  powers  may  not  appear  in  the  order  in  which 
we  have  named  them.  They  never  appear  singly,  for  we 
cannot  have  even  a  simple  sensation  without  also  having  an 
emotional  element  and  discrimination  connected  with  it ; 
nor  can  we  remember  without  comparing  a  present  sensa- 
tion with  a  past  one.  Yet  it  will  aid  us,  in  study,  to  isolate 
each  of  the  processes,  in  the  same  way  that  we  may  con- 
sider the  form  of  a  house  apart  from  its  color.  But  all 
the  mental  powers  are,  at  the  same  time,  weavers  at  the 
loom  of  knowledge,  and  the  product  is  a  web  so  closely 
woven  that  it  is  often  very  difficult  to  pick  out  the  separate 
threads. 

SENSATION. 

Definition.  — /A  sensation  is  a  state  of  consciousness 
resulting  from  nerve  action/  When  a  stimulation  of  the 
retina  by  light  is  transmitted  by  the  optic  nerve  to  the 
brain  so  as  to  affect  consciousness,  the  result  is  a  sensa- 
tion. No  one  can  tell  us  why  nerve  action  affects  con- 
sciousness, but  such  is  the  fact.  Sensations  are  not 
knowledge  any  more  than  wool  is  cloth.  They  are  the  raw 
material  out  of  which  knowledge  is  slowly  spun.  Sensa- 
tion accompanies  the  exercise  of  the  senses  and  the  nervous 
system  in  general,  when  the  latter  is  sufficiently  aroused. 


OO  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 

As  we  have  seen,  not  all  nervous  action  appears  in  conscious 
sensation,  since  a  healthy  nervous  system  is  fortunately  a 
machine  which  obtrudes  no  more  of  its  business  on  con- 
sciousness than  is  sufficient  to  furnish  the  raw  materials  of 
knowledge.  The  capacity  for  sensation  lies  at  the  founda- 
tion of  all  knowledge.  Innumerable  things  in  nature  cause 
sensations  in  the  ear,  eye,  nose,  mouth,  skin,  and  muscles. 
/Our  knowledge  of  the  world  is  merely  the  proper  inter- 
pretation of  these  sensations. 

Conditions   and    Limits   of    Sensation.  —  Four    factors 
enter  into  the  production  of  a  sensation  :  (i)  There  must 
be  a  stimulus  ;  in  other  words,  there  must  be  atmospheric 
vibrations  for  the  ear,  gaseous  substances  for  the  nose,  etc. 
(2)  There  must  be  nerves  capable  of  transmitting  to  the 
brain  the  effects  of  the  stimulus.     (3)  There  must  be  a  con- 
scious agent  fitted  to  respond.     (4)  The  stimulus  must  reach'l  ~ 
the  brain  in  such  a  way  as  to  cause  a  change  in  the  con-  j 
scious  agent. 

We  know  that  our  sensory  nerves  are  capable  of  trans- 
mitting to  the  brain  only  a  part  of  the  phenomena  of  the 
universe.  When  the  vibrations  in  the  air  pass  beyond  a 
certain  limit,  the  ear  hears  no  further  sound.  The  vibra- 
tions are  active,  for  some  persons  hear  before  the  usual  num- 
ber is  reached,  while  others  continue  to  hear  beyond  the 
normal  limit.  The  failure  to  hear  does  not  stop  the  vibra- 
tions. Our  senses,  however,  can  tell  us  nothing  of  vibrations 
of  the  air  more  rapid  than  thirty-six  thousand  in  a  second. 
Vibrations  of  the  ether  produce  no  sensation  unless  they 
are  more  than  c  ^trillions  in  a  second,  when  we  get  a  sensa- 
tion of  heat.  We  begin  to  get  a  sensation  of  light  when 
they  are  392_trillipjijLilx~a-S£Cond.  As  they  increase,  we 
pass  from  one  color  to  another  until  they  reach  757  trillions 


PRESENTATION.  6 1 

i'p  a  gprnnrlj  when  everything  is  darkness.    The  eye  can  no 
longer  grasp  the  resultant  effect  of  increased  vibration. 

Thus  we  see  that  our  senses  give  us  only  a  section  of  the 
world's  phenomena.  If  a  visitor  from  another  planet  were 
to  come  to  us  with  a  request  to  be  shown  terrestrial  animals, 
and  if  we  admitted  to  his  view  only  such  as  could  pass 
through  a  hole  of  three  square  feet,  we  should  do  for  him 
in  an  analogous  way  what  our  senses  do  for  us.  The  visi- 
tor would,  of  course,  not  know  that  we  had  horses,  camels, 
hippopotami,  elephants,  and  whales.  In  the  same  way,  our 
senses  usher  only  certain  phenomena  into  the  presence  of 
our  minds.  If  we  had  three  or  four  new  senses  added,  this 
might  appear  like  a  new  world  to  us ;  we  might  become 
conscious  of  a  vast  number  of  phenomena,  which  at  present 
never  have  any  effect  upon  our  nervous  organism.  It  is 
possible  to  imagine  a  race  of  beings  whose  senses  do  not 
resemble  ours,  inhabiting  other  worlds. 

What  We  Really  Know  through  Sensation.  —  Professor 
Ziehen  rightly  says :  "  It  follows  that  the  constitution  of 
the  nervous  system  is  an  essential  factor  in  determining  the 
quality  of  sensation.  This  fact  reveals  the  obvious  error 
of  former  centuries,  first  refuted  by  Locke,  though  still 
shared  by  na'fve  thought  to-day,  that  the  objects  about  us 
themselves  are  colored,  warm,  cold,  etc.  As  external  to 
our  consciousness,  we  can  only  assume  matter,  vibrating 
with  molecular  motion  and  permeated  by  vibrating  particles 
of  ether.  The  nervous  apparatus  select  only  certain  mo- 
tions of  matter  or  of  ether,  which  they  transform  into  that 
form  of  nerve  excitation  with  which  they  are  familiar.  It 
is  only  this  nerve  excitation  that  we  perceive  as  red,  warm, 
or  hard."  We  have  already  seen  how  the  same  water  may 
seem  both  hot  and  cold  at  the  same  time  to  our  hands. 


62  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

The  Quality  of  Sensations. 

Causes  of  Difference  in  Quality.  —  Every  sensation  has 
quality  and  intensity. 

Several  factors  determine  the  quality :  (i)  The  differ- 
ent senses  cause  sensations  of  different  qualities.  A 
sensation  of  sound  differs  from  that  of  sight.  (2)  The 
part  of  the  brain  into  which  the  nerve  current  is  poured 
has  much  to  do  with  determining  the  quality  of  sensa- 
tions from  the  same  stimulus.  If  electricity  stimulates 
the  optic  nerve,  the  effect  is  transmitted  to  the  occipi- 
tal lobes,  and  we  have  a  sensation  of  light.  If  the 
same  electrical  current  is  applied  to  the  auditory  nerve, 
the  stimulus  flows  into  the  temporal  lobes,  and  we  get 
a  sensation  of  sound,  ftj  The  location  of  the  applica- 
tion of  the  stimulus  changes  the  quality.  If  the  same 
pencil  is  applied  with  the  same  force  to  the  cheek, 
tongue,  and  eyeball,  we  get  a  different  tactile  sensation 
in  each  case.  (4)  The  time  for  which  a  stimulus  acts 
changes  the  quality.  After  the  retina  has  been  fatigued 
with  gazing  at  red  for  a  long  time,  a  green  color  may  be 
seen.  Fatigue  in  the  brain  cells  also  ensues,  and  they  do 
not  respond  in  the  same  way.  (Xj  The  relation  of  one 
stimulus  to  a  preceding  stimulus  changes  the  quality. 
This  may  be  proved  by  tasting  different  substances,  or  by 
looking  at  different  colors  in  succession.  (6)  The  inter- 
mittent or  moving  character  of  a  stimulus  affects  the 
quality.  A  crawling  insect  gives  us  a  different  sensation 
from  a  motionless  one  ;  the  effects  of  a  flickering  light 
differ  from  those  of  a  steady  flame.  (7)  The  emotional 
quality  of  sensations  differs,  according  as  they  are  pleasura- 
ble, painful,  or  neutral. 

We  shall  now  consider  (3)  and  (5)  at  greater  length. 


PRESENTATION.  63 

(i)  has  been  already  dealt  with  in  the  first  chapter  and 
will  be  further  considered  under  Perception. 

Local  Qualities  of  Sensation.  —  These  are  very  important 
because  they  furnish  perception  with  the  data  necessary  to 
know  our  own  bodies  as  extended,  and  other  matter  as  ex- 
tended by  comparison  with  them.  If  we  put  the  points  of 
a  pair  of  compasses  a  certain  distance  apart  upon  the  skin, 
we  shall  notice  two  tactile  sensations,  and  in  feeling  them  as 
two,  we  know  that  they  are  in  different  places.  To  cover 
up  a  scar  on  the  nose,  a  bit  of  skin  was  transplanted 
from  a  patient's  forehead.  When  this  patch  of  skin  feltJ 
pain,  his  forehead  seemed  to  ache,  so  definite  were  the 
proper  local  sensations  from  the  grafted  skin. 

If  a  needle  were  thrust  into  the  foot  of  a  child  of  ten,  he 
would  be  in  no  danger  of  thinking  that  the  sensation  came 
from  his  hand.  There  would  be  a  local  difference  in  the 
two  sensations.  This  sense  of  difference  becomes  gradually 
more  pronounced  from  infancy,  as  the  discriminating  mind 
notices  the  unlikeness  in  the  sensations  coming  from  vari- 
ous parts  of  the  body.  No  mind  can  discriminate  between 
things  that  are  perfectly  alike,  hence  there  must  be  original 
local  differences  in  the  sensations. 

Relativity    of    Sensations.  —  Sensations   do   not   come 
separately.     Each  preceding  one  changes  the  character  of 
subsequent  ones.     The  following  law  of  relativity  may  be 
formulated :    All    sensations  feel  the  deflecting  force  of\ 
others,  and   differ  because   of  their  varying   relation  tol 
others./  As  a  person  grows  older,  sensations  become  more 
largely  resultants  of  related  factors. 

If  any  one  gazes  at  a  red  object  for  a  while  and  then 
looks  at  a  gray  object,  it  will  appear  green.  A  sound  of  one 

^uVi  , 


AUK 


64  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

pitch  may  cause  an  unusual  auditory  impression,  if  immedi- 
ately preceded  by  a  sound  of  a  different  quality.  Every 
one  knows  how  contrast  changes  taste  sensations.  We 
have  already  had  the  example  of  plunging  a  warm  and  a 
cold  hand  at  the  same  time  into  lukewarm  water.  It  has 
been  well  said  that  to  see  only  one  color  would  be  to  see 
no  color  at  all,  that  black  and  white  come  out  in  their 
fullness  only  when  placed  beside  each  other.  Our  world 
of  sight  is  made  up  of  color  contrasts,  for  the  eye  seldom 
remains  fixed  long  on  any  one  thing.  A  fusion  of  sensa- 
tions always  enters  into  our  idea  of  a  thing.  Even  when 
we  take  jelly  into  our  mouths,  the  resultant  sensation  is 
due  as  much  to  touch  as  to  taste. 

It  is  important  to  remember  the  law  of  relativity,  for 
then  we  shall  hot  expect  a  person  to  get  the  same  sensation 
as  ourselves  from  a  new  object,  if  our  previous  sensations 
have  differed.  Thus,  psychology  teaches  us  to  understand 
ourselves  and  others  better. 

After  receiving  a  new  sensation,  the  brain  is  a  changed 
organ,  and  it  will  thereafter  react  in  a  changed  manner 

The  Intensity  of  Sensations. 

Causes  of  Difference  in  Intensity.  —  This  depends  (i)  on 
the  intensity  of  the  stimulus.  The  sensation  of  light  from 
a  candle  is  not  so  intense  as  that  from  the  sun.  (2)  The 
niassiyejiess  of  a  stimulus  of  the  same  intensity  affects 
the  intensity  of  the  sensation.  We  are  affected  differently 
by  plunging  one  finger  or  the  whole  hand  into  very  hot 
water.  (3)  The  in±ensity_depends_on  the  attention  we  give 
to  the  sensation.  If  we  center  attention  on  every  slight 
pain,  it  gathers  in  intensity  and  often  unfits  us  for  doing 
our  dut)N  (4)  The  intensity  depends  on  the  condition  of 


X 


PRESENTATION.  65 

O]ir_rnind_aridjbody.  If  we  have  a  headache,  a  noise  that 
we  should  not  ordinarily  notice  may  seem  unbearable.  If 
we  are  interested  in  reading,  we  may  not  hear  the  clock 
strike.  (5)  Contrast  affects  the  intensity,  as  we  saw  in  the 
preceding  section. 

It  should  be  added  that  the  intensity  of  a  sensation  may 
change  its  quality,  and  many  of  the  factors  in  the  quality 
may  change  the  intensity. 

The  Threshold  of  Sensation.  —  There  is  always  inertia  to 
be  overcome  in  rousing  nervous  matter.  A  certain  amount 
of  stimulus  is  expended  in  this.  If  no  more  is  added,  there 
is  no  sensation.  When  the  inertia  is  once  overcome,  the 
sensation  will  persist  for  a  time  after  the  cessation  of  the 
stimulus.  Atmospheric  vibrations  at  the  rate  of  10  per 
second  do  not  sufficiently  stimulate  the  brain  to  render 
us  conscious  of  sound.  When  they  reach  a  minimum 
of  from  1 6  to  30,  they  enter  the  threshold  of  human 
consciousness ;  and  at  a  maximum  of  36,000,  they  pass 
out  by  the  upper  threshold.  The  cat  can  hear  sounds 
inaudible  to  man,  and  hence  has  a  lower  aural  threshold. 
This  threshold  is  not  constant,  as  any  one  may  deter- 
mine by  placing  a  watch  at  such  a  distance  that  its 
ticking  is  just  heard.  At  intervals  of  about  three  seconds 
this  will  cease  to  be  audible  for  a  short  while.  Nerve 
currents,  as  well  as  attention,  seem  to  have  wave-like 
characteristics. 

Weber's  Law.  —  To  increase  the  intensity  in  a  sensa- 
tion, a  more  than  corresponding  increase  in  the  stimulus 
is  necessary.  Fechner  stated  the  law  thus :  The  sensation 
increases  in  proportion  to  the  logarithm  of  the  stimulus. 

Within    certain    limits,   any   sensory   stimulus    may  be 

HALLECK'S   PSYC. —  C 


66  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

augmented  without  increasing  the  sensation.  We  should 
not  perceive  increased  intensity  in  a  sound  when  aug- 
mented one  fourth.  An  ounce  might  be  added  to  two 
pounds  without  detection  by  the  pressure  sense.  The 
additional  stimulus  necessary  to  increase  the  intensity  of 
a  sensation  varies  for  different  senses.  Sound  must  be 
increased  one  third  ;  light,  only  one  one-hundredth. 

This  law  has  only  approximate  validity  for  stimuli  of 
medium  intensity.  When  a  light  gets  as  bright  as  the  eye 
will  endure,  a  light  one  third  brighter  will  not  cause  an 
increase  in  the  sensation  of  light.  The  gazer  at  the  sun 
will  be  blinded,  and  if  an  object  were  twice  as  bright  as 
the  sun,  the  sensation  from  gazing  at  it  would  be  other 
than  that  of  increased  light.  Again,  with  minor  stimuli 
the  law  has  not  absolute  validity.  A  strained  attention 
might  perceive  an  increase  in  a  sound  when  the  stimu- 
lus was  increased  less  than  one  third.  As  attention  never 
remains  constant,  the  precise  amount  of  stimulus  necessary 
to  increase  a  sensation  will  vary  in  actual  life. 

The  important  truth  deduced  from  this  investigation  is 
that  a  doubled  stimulus  does  not  necessarily  double  the 
amount  of  sensation. 


PERCEPTION. 


Functions    of    Perception.  —  Perception  js  Jhat_pojKer 

which  interprets  the  raw  materials  given  by  sensatiojis. 
Perception,  always  aided  by  the  other  faculties,  gives  us 
our  first  exact  knowledge.  Perception  may  interpret  a 
dark  blue  color  as  a  bunch  of  grapes  ;  a  patch  of  red  as 
an  apple  ;  a  rough,  prickly  sensation  as  a  chestnut  bur. 
An  infant  has  indefinite  sensations  —  not  interpreted  into 
the  grape,  the  apple,  or  the  bur.  To  the  infant,  everything 


PRESENTATION.  67 

from  the  taste  of  sugar  to  the  touch  of  silk  appears  in  con- 
sciousness in  a  hazy  way,  simply  as  a  sensation. 

To  our  mental  ear  sensations  are  all  the  while  speak- 
ing, but  their  language  is  unintelligible  until  perception 

interprets  it.  (When  ap  Arab  was  tried  in  nnp  nf  0]ir 
criminal  COUrta.  hiq  wnrrls  ransprl  spngaHftflp  in  »h«»  fo^gft'* 

ears  Nit  ™r""*ypd_fl(LmeaningA  An  interpreter  was  called 
to  translate  the  words.  Perception  is  the  interpreter  em- 
ployed by  sensation.  As  we  grow  older,  we  understand 
more  fully  that  a  sensation  does  not  exist  for  itself,  but 
only  for  what  it  signifies  to  perception.  We  soon  cease 
to  pay  much  attention  to  the  visual  sensations  coming 
from  individual  letters  or  objects,  but  hasten  to  the  per- 
ceptional and  rational  significations.  A  hungry  person 
loses  little  time  in  hurrying  from  a  sensation  of  white  and 
brown  to  the  perception  of  a  slice  of  bread  or  cake. 

All  the  Mental  Powers  are  Represented  in  Perception.  — 

We  name  every  mental  state  from  its  dominant  element, 
just  as  we  call  a  certain  ore  "  iron,"  although  it  also  con- 
tains phosphorus  and  sulphur.  Sensation  and  perception 
are  closely  connected  with  nerve  currents  flowing  into  the 
brain,  while  memory  and  thought  need  have/  no  such 
immediate  connection  ;  yet  perception  could  not  advance  a 
step  without  aid  from  the  other  mental  powers. 

Let  us  take  a  concrete  example  to  make  this  clearer. 
As  we  walk  in  June,  our  eyes  give  us  a  sensation  of  a 
patch  of  red  color.  Memory  recalls  another  sensation. 
Thought  decides  the  two  to  be  similar.  We  feel  emotional 
interest  in  the  patch  of  red  color  and  voluntarily  attend  to 
it.  We  before  found  that  such  a  patch  of  red  color  could 
be  translated  into  a  strawberry.  Thought  says  that  this 
is  a  similar  patch,  not  such  a  one  as  might  come  from  a 


58  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

cherry ;  therefore  this  patch  of  color  can  be  translated  into 
a  strawberry. 

When  we  perceive  the  strawberry  more  closely  by 
plucking  and  eating  it,  we  again  traverse  the  same  mental 
ground.  We  have  a  sensation  of  taste.  Were  we  blind, 
folded  or  in  the  dark  when  the  berry  was  thrust  into  the 
mouth,  we  should  compare  the  present  taste  sensation  with 
one  before  experienced,  and  conclude  that  this  resembled 
a  former  sensation  due  to  the  taste  of  a  strawberry.  We 
should  feel  interest,  and  voluntarily  center  attention  on  the 
sensation  and  the  process  of  remembering  and  comparing. 

Perceptional  Interpretation  of  Special  Tactile  Sensations 
from  External  Objects.  —  When  we  touch  sandpaper,  glue, 
polished  marble,  velvet,  and  steel,  we  have  sensations  from 
rough,  sticky,  smooth,  soft,  and  hard  substances  ;  and  these 
sensations  have  different  qualities  which  perception  notes 
and  assigns  to  different  substances.  From  the  interpreta- 
tion of  these  tactile  sensations,  we  form  more  and  more 
definite  ideas  of  the  sandpaper,  glue,  marble,  velvet,  steel, 
and  all  other  matter  with  which  we  come  in  contact. 
We  are  handed  something  in  the  dark  and  get  a  sensation 
of  roughness;  we  then  proceed  to  translate  that  sensation 
into  a  file.  The  object  may  give  a  temperature  sensation 
of  coldness,  which  we  translate  into  ice.  Our  cheeks  are 
touched  in  the  dark,  and  we  experience  a  sensation  of  soft- 
ness, which  perception  interprets  as  coming  from  a  feather. 

Should  we  experience  a  tactile  sensation  unlike  any 
that  we  had  ever  before  felt,  we  should  need  to  have  it 
repeated,  to  pay  voluntary  attention  to  it,  to  compare  it 
with  other  sensations,  before  perception  could  interpret  it. 
If  a  person  had  few  sensations  from  touching  a  peculiar, 
cold,  clammy  substance  in  the  dark,  he  could  not  readily 


PRESENTATION.  69 

translate  them  into  a  lizard.  If,  when  groping  around  in  the 
pantry,  he  received  a  sensation  with  which  he  was  familiar, 
he  would  at  once  translate  it  into  the  proper  object  or  sub- 
stance. This  interpretation  would  be  tactile  perception. 

Perception  of  the  Bodily  Self  in  Contrast  with  External 
Objects.  —  When  we  touch  our  own  bodies,  we  get  a  double 
sensation  of  touching  and  being  touched.  This  dual  sen- 
sation differs  from  that  experienced  from  contact  with  out- 
side matter,  and  so  we  begin  to  form  an  idea  of  self  as 
contrasted  with  external  objects.  Whenever  we  note  a 
difference  between  things,  our  ideas  are  sharpened.  Be- 
fore the  infant  grows  very  old,  he  notices  a  difference  in  the 
sensations  received  from  striking  himself  and  the  cradle. 
At  first  the  infant  does  not  know  the  limits  of  his  own 
body.  When  old  enough  to  nibble  at  a  biscuit,  infants 
have  been  seen  to  offer  one  to  their  foot  to  eat,  as  if 
that  were  some  disconnected  object.  Contact  with  other 
things,  often  resulting  in  bumps  and  bruises,  finally  enables 
the  child  to  know  the  limits  of  his  frame.  The  moment 
he  begins  to  get  such  knowledge,  he  marks  off  the  external 
world  from  his  own  body.  The  child  then  no  longer  looks 
with  astonishment  at  a  wriggling  foot.  The  mental  gaze 
is  turned  toward  the  outside  world,  to  perceive  that. 

Interpretation  of  the  Local  Qualities  of  Tactile  Sensations. 
—  Touch  gives  sensations  of  local  difference.  We  can 
feel  the  points  of  a  pair  of  compasses,  now  farther  apart, 
and  now  closer  together.  Perception  uses  such  data  in 
determining  distance.  Widen  the  interval  between  the 
two  points  on  the  same  part  of  the  body,  and  perception 
says,  "  I  translate  into  distance  this  changed  sensation,  due 
to  the  widening  of  the  space  between  the  points." 


7O  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

If  we  had  compasses  with  three  points,  so  that  each  could 
touch  a  different  part  of  the  wrist,  or  if  we  used  three  of  our 
fingers  in  the  same  way,  we  should  have  three  local  sensa- 
tions from  points  not  in  the  same  plane  surface.  Three 
such  different  points  can  be  included  only  in  a  body  that 
has  magnitude,  or  extent  in  three  directions.  From  such 
data,  perception  gives  us  an  idea  of  our  wrist  as  a  body  of 
three  dimensions.  We  then  proceed  to  compare  objects  in 
the  external  world  with  parts  of  our  bodies,  and  to  know 
such  objects  as  distant  from  us  and  as  having  magnitude. 

Perception,  using  the  different  local  data  from  tactile 
nerves,  places  sensations  in  various  definite  parts  of  the 
body.  The  infant  experiences  pain  in  an  indefinite  some- 
where. Perception  watches  the  difference  in  sensations 
from  various  localities  and  assigns  these  sensations  to 
different  parts  of  the  body.  It  is  not  unusual  for  persons 
to  complain  of  feeling  pain  in  an  amputated  limb.  A  man^ 
had  the  misfortune  to  lose  a  foot  on  which  was  a  trouble- 
some corn.  He  afterward  complained  that  this  corn  gave 
him  great  pain.  The  explanation  is  that  sensations  were 
still  conveyed  to  the  brain  by  the  same  nerve  which  for- 
merly connected  with  the  corn  and  brought  sensations  from 
it.  When  the  exposed  end  of  the  amputated  nerve  after- 
ward conveyed  sensations,  perception  located  them  in  the 
same  place  as  before.  Prior  to  amputation,  the  nerve  was 
affected  at  its  extremity  in  the  foot,  and  the  same  inference 
continued  to  be  drawn  from  subsequent  sensations,  due  to 
stimuli  at  the  exposed  root  of  the  nerve. 

Interpretation  of  Combined  Tactile  and  Muscular  Sensa- 
tions. —  By  the  blending  of  our  muscular  and  tactile  sensa- 
tions, perception  is  enabled  to  translate  the  combined  data 
into  far  more  definite  knowledge.  When  we  exert  the 


PRESENTATION.  J\ 

proper  muscles  strongly,  we  seem  to  get  a  sensation  all  the 
way  through  our  wrists  or  arms.  The  massiveness  of 
these  sensations  gives  us  a  more  direct  idea  of  our  limbs 
as  bodies  of  magnitude.  In  actual  life,  muscular  sensa- 
tions always  blend  with  local  tactile  ones  to  give  percep- 
tion additional  data  for  perceiving  the  magnitude  of  our 
bodies,  and,  by  comparison,  the  size  of  external  objects. 

A  slight  bruise  to  one  of  the  muscles  of  a  finger  gives  a 
less  massive  sensation  than  a  larger  bruise  on  the  arm, 
trunk,  or  leg.  A  sensation  from  a  carbuncle  or  a  sprain  is 
more  massive  than  from  a  needle  thrust  into  a  muscle. 
When  we  lift  twenty  pounds,  the  sensation  is  more  volu- 
minous than  when  we  lift  two.  When  we  swing  our  arms  or 
move  them  around  the  exterior  surface  of  some  object, 
when  we  walk  or  run,  when  we  press  against  something 
heavy  or  light,  —  we  get  different  muscular  sensations. 
Perception  busies  itself  with  noting  and  interpreting  these 
differences.  From  more  or  less  massive  muscular  sen- 
sations due  to  (i)  physical  conditions,  (2)  movement,  (3) 
pressure,  (4)  weight,  we  get  data  which  perception  uses 
as  a  basis  for  interpreting  the  magnitude,  weight,  and 
resistance  of  bodies  in  space.  When  a  blind  man  wishes 
to  form  an  idea  of  the  size  of  a  table,  he  moves  his  hand 
around  it  and  tries  to  reach  across  it.  He  relies  entirely 
on  sensations  from  his  muscles  and  nerves  of  touch. 
/'Muscular  and  tactile  perception  is  thus  a  process  of  trans- 
lating the  external  world  into  greater  or  smaller  masses  in 
xerms  of  our  bodies.  Thus,  we  say  the  house  is  so  many 
"  feet "  wide ;  the  horse,  so  many  "  hands  "  high  ;  the  tree, 
so  many  "steps"  away,  or  a  "stone's  throw"  distant. 
That  is,  there  is  the  distinct  element  of  the  muscular  effort 
involved  in  taking  those  steps,  or  in  throwing  a  stone. 

e  translate  thfiSg  miisri^ar  sensations 


72    '  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

Perception  by  Visual  Sensations.  —  No  sense  better  il- 
lustrates the  interpretive  office  of  perception  than  sight. 
A  glance  at  the  "  raw  materials,"  or  different  visual  data, 
will  make  this  plain. 

We  have  (i)  sensations  of  light  and  color;  (2)  normally, 
two  retinal  images  from  one  object ;  (3)  each  image  mir- 
rored bottom  side  up  on  the  retina ;  (4)  part  of  the  fibers 
from  the  optic  nerve  of  each  eye  crossing  over,  and  thus 
transmitting  the  sensation  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  brain. 

Hence  nothing  can  be  more  unlike  our  idea  of  a  thing 
than  the  strictly  visual  antecedents.  Consider  them  in  the 
case  of  a  church,  for  example.  The  retinal  image  has  the 
spire  pointing  downward,  the  foundation  upward.  There 
are  two  such  images  of  one  church.  Some  of  the  fibers  of 
each  optic  nerve  transmit  the  sensation  to  the  side  of  the 
brain  opposite  to  the  receiving  eye.  Such  sensations  are 
no  more  like  a  church  than  the  word  "church"  is  like  the 
object.  Perception,  by  a  peculiar  power  of  its  own,  trans- 
lates such  bewildering  data  into  one  church  in  the  right 
position  in  space. 

Muscular  Sensations  Aid  in  Visual  Perceptions.  —  Every 
time  we  move  our  eyes  when  looking  at  things,  we 
have  muscular  as  well  as  visual  sensations.  We  saw  that 
the  eyeball  is  turned  in  its  socket  by  various  muscles. 
These  incline  the  eye  upward,  downward,  sideways,  and 
obliquely.  With  every  change  in  movement  there  is  a 
change  in  the  muscular  sensation.  When  we  look  at  a 
near  object,  there  is  different  muscular  tension  from  that 
experienced  when  looking  at  a  distant  one.  We  have 
already  seen  that  muscular,  joined  with  tactile  sensations, 
supply  perception  with  data  for  estimating  the  distance 
and  the  magnitude  of  an  object.  The  data  given  by  mus- 


PRESENTATION.  73 

cular  sensations  in  connection  with  the  eyes  are  just  as 
valuable  as  in  connection  with  any  other  sense.  These 
data  aid  us  in  visually  perceiving  objects  of  three  dimen- 
sions at  the  proper  distance. 

Ocular  Movements. — We  are  all  familiar  with  (i)  the 
muscular  sensations  due  to  turning  the  eyeballs  in  their 
sockets.  When  we  glance  at  the  top  of  a  tree  or  spire  to 
estimate  its  height,  there  is  a  muscular  sensation  from 
rolling  the  eyes  upward.  If  we  incline  them  downward  to 
note  the  distance  from  a  roof  to  the  street,  to  the  bottom 
of  a  well,  or  to  the  base  of  a  hill ;  if  we  look  askance  or  out 
of  the  corners  of  our  eyes  at  a  passing  person, — we  get 
differing  sensations.  (2)  If  we  roll  both  eyes  inward,  or 
converge  them,  to  look  at  a  near  object ;  or,  (3)  if,  in 
focusing  the  eye  for  near  or  remote  objects,  we  render  the 
lens  more  or  less  convex  by  pulling  it  with  the  ciliary 
muscle,  —  in  each  case  we  get  a  characteristic  sensation 
according  to  the  distance. 

These  movements  suppose  the  possession  of  two  eyes. 
A  one-eyed  person  loses  the  sensation  from  convergence. 
If  we  hold  a  needle  a  foot  from  our  eyes,  we  must  direct 
them  toward  each  other,  or  converge  them,  to  see  it.  If 
ive  close  one  eye  and  try  to  thread  a  needle,  we  cannot  hit 
the  needle's  eye  as  accurately  as  when  we  look  at  it  with ' 
both  eyes.  A  one-eyed  person  also  loses  half  the  sensation 
due  to  focusing,  hence  he  cannot  so  well  judge  of  distance. 

Purely  Visual  Sensations  Furnished   to  Perception. — 

(i)  Different  rates  of  vibration  in  the  luminiferous  ether 
affect  the  retina  differently,  and  thus  cause  sensations  of 
color.  (2)  More  or  less  light  comes  from  the  same  object 
according  to  its  distance.  (3)  The  retinal  image  varies  in 


74  PSYCHOLOGY  AND  PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

magnitude  in  inverse  proportion  to  the  distance  of  the 
object.  (4)  A  body  of  three  dimensions,  because  seen  at 
a  different  angle  by  each  eye,  does  not  cause  the  same 
image  in  each  eye.  If  we  look  at  the  corner  of  a  book, 
alternately  closing  each  eye,  the  right  eye  sees  a  little 
more  of  one  side,  the  left  eye  more  of  the  other.  This 
varying  image  becomes  a  direct  sign  for  perception  to  note 
that  bodies  have  magnitude.  When  we  join  to  this  purely 
visual  sign  the  muscular  and  the  retinal  sensations  due  to 
ocular  movement,  we  have  all  the  visual  data  enabling  per- 
ception to  judge  of  magnitude,  and  to  determine  distance ; 
but  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  perception  translates 
these  data  into  a  language  of  its  own*.  ^>* 

How  Perception  Constructs  a  Field  of  Vision.  —  When 
a  surgical  operation  has  enabled  the  blind  to  see,  they 
have  invariably  at  first  declared  that  objects  either  touched 
their  eyes  or  were  at  no  definite  distance  from  them.  A 
landscape  with  a  hill  and  a  forest  in  the  background,  a  pas- 
ture with  cattle  and  sheep,  a  brook  with  a  growth  of  willows 
and  a  white  farmhouse  in  the  foreground,  were  first  seen 
only  as  blotches  of  color  touching  the  eye.  .  Not  a  single 
individual  element  of  the  landscape  was  at  first  perceived. 
The  blotches  of  color  due  to  the  farmhouse  and  cattle  were 
'not  translated  into  their  proper  objects.  It  is  the  task  of 
perception  to  find  out  what  such  confused  sensations  of 
color  mean.  Only  after  considerable  experience  could 
these  persons  translate  this  patch  of  color  into  a  farmhouse 
and  that  into  a  sheep  or  a  cow,  at  a  proper  distance. 
Infants  may  amuse  us  by  stretching  out  their  hands  for  a 
star  or  the  moon,  but  a  man  of  thirty  just  given  the  power 
of  sight  might  do  the  very  same  thing. 

Perception  learns  how  to  construct  a  field  of  vision  in 


PRESENTATION.  75 

several  ways:  —  (i)  The  size  of  the  retinal  image  and  the 
consequent  intensity  of  the  sensation  vary  with  the  dis- 
tance and  magnitude  of  an-ohjejQt.  If  a  distant  eagle  looks 
to  be  about  the  size  of  a  mosquito  near  by,  we  conclude  that 
the  eagle  must  be  from  a  quarter  to  a  half  of  a  mile  away ; 
because  on  previous  occasions  we  have  found  that  certain 
objects,  to  form  a  retinal  image  of  that  size,  must  be  at  a 
given  distance,  and  that,  as  we  approached  the  object,  the 
retinal  image  grew  larger.  In  King  Lear,  Shakespeare 
uses  these  words  to  convey  an  idea  of  the  height  of  a 
cliff :- 

"  The  fishermen,  that  walk  upon  the  beach, 
Appear  like  mice." 

(2)  We  judge  of  the  distance  or  depth  in  space  by  (a) 
variations  of  light  and  sliade.     The  painter  by  imitating 
this  color  quality  in  natural  objects  gives  us  an  idea  of  per- 
spective on  canvas,     (b)  The  sharpness  or  dimness  of  out- 
line enables  us  to  estimate  distance.     The  artist  will  not 
paint  a  remote  object  with  as  distinct  an  outline  as  a  near 
one.     When  we  look  at  objects  through  a  fog,  the  retinal 
image  is  the  same  size  as  if  there  were  no  fog,  but  the 
indistinctness  suggests  vast  distance.     An  object  would 
have  to  be  very  large  to  produce  a  retinal  image  of  that 
size  at  such  a  distance.      Hence  a   comparatively  small 
object  often  seems  immense. 

(3)  The  number  of  intervening  objects  affects  our  per 
ception  of  distance  and  extent  of  space.     A  landsman  at 
sea  has  a  very  poor  idea  of  distance,  because  on  the  land  he 
has  been  accustomed  to  form  his  estimates  by  the  help  of 
intervening  objects.     A  person  was  once  heard  to  exclaim 
that  a  certain  harbor  had  doubled  in  size  since  the  day  before, 
when  no  vessels  were  at  anchor  there.     During  the  night 


76  PSYCHOLOGY  AND  PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

a  storm  arose ;  many  vessels  sailed  into  the  haven,  anchor- 
ing at  irregular  intervals,  and  causing  its  apparent  increase 
in  size.  When  the  moon  rises,  it  frequently  appears  very 
large.  There  are  so  many  objects  intervening  between 
us  and  it,  that  we  unconsciously  think  it  at  a  greater 
distance  than  when  it  is  near  the  zenith.  As  an  object 
must  have  increased  in  size  in  order  to  give  a  retinal 
image  of  the  same  size  at  a  greater  distance,  we  infer  that 
the  magnitude  of  the  moon  is  increased  when  we  gaze  at 
it  as  it  rises. 

(4)  The  motion  of  objects  across  the  field  of  vision, 
either  by  movement  of  our  own  eyeballs  or  of  our  entire 
persons,  affects  our  idea  of  distance.     The  retina  has  only 
one  small  spot  which  images  things  with  the  greatest  dis- 
tinctness.    Since  clearness  of  image  is  one  of  the  means 
by  which  we  judge  of  distance,  the  importance  of  move- 
ment is  manifest.     Infants  have  been  observed  to  move 
their  eyes  so  as  to  bring  out  the  image  more  distinctly. 

Again,  when  traveling  by  rail,  we  can  judge  of  the  dis- 
tance of  objects  by  the  rapidity  with  which  they  pass  the 
field  of  vision.  A  Jiear  object  seems  to  travel  much  faster 
than  a  remote  one.  A  telegraph  pole  near  the  track  will 
whiz  by,  while  a  distant  tree  will  appear  to  have  a  much 
slower  motion. 

(5)  The  use  which  perception  makes  of  the  muscular 
data  in  connection  with  rolling  the  eyes,  converging  and 
focusing  them,  has  already  been  sufficiently  noticed. 

The  field  of  sight  is  therefore  a  perceptional  interpreta- 
tion of  many  complex  data  of  sensation. 

Quickness  of  Perception.  —  After  visual  perception  has, 
through  experience,  become  definite,  a  flash  of  lightning 
will  reveal  the  individual  elements  in  a  landscape  in  their 


PRESENTATION.  77 

proper  positions  in  space  without  help  from  the  muscular 
sensations  involved  in  using  the  eyes.  Dr.  Ziehen  says  : 
"  We  find  the  wonderful  rapidity  with  which  this  arrange- 
ment of  the  sensations  is  accomplished  inconceivable ;  at 
once  and  without  a  moment's  thought  the  image  is  before 
us,  well  arranged  and  unmarred  by  the  slightest  error.  To 
be  sure,  a  process  of  evolution  extending  through  almost 
endless  ages  was  necessary  to  produce  and  train  a  cortical 
(cerebral)  apparatus  of  vision  that  can  react  with  such 
fitness.  The  newborn  animal  or  child  inherits  this  appa- 
ratus. Each  single  individual  does  not  need  to  acquire 
it  again  laboriously,  but  only  to  learn  to  use  it."  In  some 
respects  the  brain  of  a  young  chicken,  quail,  and  partridge 
is  more  wonderful  than  that  of  man,  for  almost  as  soon  as 
hatched  they  perceive  an  individual  object  in  space  at  the 
right  distance.  They  will  peck  at  an  insect  with  the 
proper  amount  of  muscular  effort,  and  will  not  run  against 
objects  in  their  path,  as  a  man  would  after  having  been 
restored  to  sight. 

Perception  by  Aural  Sensations. —  We  saw,  in  discussing 
the  sense  of  hearing,  that  certain  different  sensations,  due 
to  pitch,  intensity,  quality  and  harmony,  accompanied  the 
use  of  the  ear.  These  are  the  raw  materials  from  which 
perception  constructs  its  world  of  sound. 

In  actual  life  we  (i)  locate  sounds  in  space,  and  (2) 
assign  them  to  their  causes.  A  sound  seldom  affects  both 
ears  with  equal  intensity,  hence  we  obtain  a  clue  to  the 
direction  of  the  sound.  We  assign  sounds  to  certain 
distances  in  space,  largely  on  account  of  their  inten- 
sity. We  put  the  faint  roar  of  a  locomotive  at  a  great 
distance. 

Aural  inferences  often  land  us  in  error.     A  person,  one 


78  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

summer  evening  after  retiring,  became  very  restless  because 
he  was  sure  that  he  heard  a  mosquito.  The  steps  by  which 
he  reasoned  up  to  that  conclusion  were  these :  — 

On  previous  occasions  a  mosquito  was  the  cause  of  such  a  hum- 
ming sound. 

The  present  case  resembles  those  former  instances. 
A  mosquito  is,  therefore,  the  cause  of  this  noise. 

On  this  occasion,  however,  the  sound  which  he  really 
heard  was  the  low  whistle  of  a  distant  locomotive.  He 
was  misled  by  the  similarity  of  the  sounds  into  the  infer- 
ence that  the  noise  was  due  to  a  mosquito.  The  mocking 
bird,  the  catbird,  and  the  ventriloquist  are  frequently  the 
cause  of  erroneous  inferences. 

As  ou'r  experience  widens,  we  learn  to  associate  sounds 
of  various  qualities  with  the  objects  which  produce  them. 
In  the  dark  we  could  tell  that  certain  sounds  were  caused  by 
a  harp,  a  piano,  an  organ,  a  flute,  a  dog,  a  lamb,  a  cow, 
or  a  bird. 

The  perception  of  harmony  depends  partially  on  agree- 
able sensations  due  to  a  peculiar  stimulus  of  the  auditory 
apparatus,  and  partially  on  the  discrimination  and  com- 
parison of  aural  sensations. 

Aural  Perceptions  not  so  Accurate  as  Those  of  Sight 
and  Touch.  —  While  it  is  probably  true  that  the  interior  of 
the  ear  has  delicate  muscles  and  tactile  nerves  which  give 
signs  to  aid  in  the  perception  of  sounds  in  space,  it  is  a  fact 
that  these  data,  added  to  those  of  intensity  and  unequal 
stimulation  of  the  two  ears,  do  not  enable  perception  to 
localize  sounds  with  trustworthy  accuracy.  The  United 
States  Hydrographic  Office,  in  order  to  give  warning  of  the 
untrustworthiness  of  fog  signals,  has  printed  in  red  ink  on 


PRESENTATION.  79 

some  of  its  pilot  charts  that  there  are  "shipwrecks  caused 
by  the  insistence  of  mariners  on  the  infallibility  of  their 
ears,  who  have  accepted  unquestioned  the  guidance  of  fog 
signals  as  they  do  that  of  lighthouses  during  clear  weather. 
Audition  is  subject  to  aberrations,  and  under  circum- 
stances where  little  expected.  .Implicit  reliance  on  sound 
signals  often  leads  to  danger,  if  not  death." 

Perceptions  of  Smell.  —  We  have  seen  that  sensations 
of  smell  do  not  admit  of  accurate  classification.  They 
occupy  a  relatively  small  place  in  the  mental  life  of  most 
persons.  In  the  case  of  many  brutes,  however,  we  find  that 
smell  is  the  most  accurate  sense.  The  dog  will  recognize 
his  master  and  track  game  most  easily  by  the  odor.  Our 
olfactory  perceptions  are  most  alert  for  those  sensations 
which  indicate  the  presence  of  something  harmful  or 
pleasant,  hence  odors  are  most  commonly  classified  as 
putrid  and  sweet. 

By  experience  we  learn  to  connect  many  odors  with  the 
objects  emitting  them.  An  odor  from  an  unseen  source 
comes  in  through  the  open  window,  and  we  say,  "  How 
sweet  those  roses  smell,"  or,  "There  must  be  a  magnolia 
tree  in  blossom  somewhere  near,"  or,  "  They  must  be  hav- 
ing codfish  for  dinner  next  door."  Where  persons  are 
both  blind  and  deaf,  the  number  of  the  acquired  percep- 
tions of  smell  is  frequently  astonishing.  Dr.  Howe,  in  the 
Forty-third  Report  of  the  Massachusetts  Asylum  for  the 
Blind,  is  authority  for  the  statement  that  Julia  Brace,  a 
blind  and  deaf  mute,  could  instantly  recognize  a  person 
she  had  met  before  as  soon  as  she  caught  the  odor  from 
his  glove  or  hand.  This  sightless  girl  was  actually 
employed  to  sort  all  the  clothing  of  pupils  after  it  came 
from  the  wash.  Her  power  of  smell,  in  definiteness  and 


8O  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

vividness,  must  have  surpassed  the  sense  of  sight  in  most 
persons. 

Perceptions  of  Taste.  —  Perception  distinguishes  easily 
between  four  taste  sensations,  —  bitter,  sweet,  sour,  and 
salt.  There  are  also  numerous  others  which  are  products 
of  both  taste  and  smell.  When,  in  the  dark,  we  dis- 
tinguish one  article  of  food  from  another,  perception  is 
interpreting  taste  sensations.  How  much  such  perceptions 
depend  on  sight  and  smell  is  well  brought  out  when  "taste 
prizes  "  are  given.  The  tasters  have  their  eyes  covered 
and  a  bottle  of  perfumery  held  under  the  nostrils  while 
some  one  puts  food  into  the  mouth.  Mistakes  are  very 
common  in  the  case  of  such  common  edibles  as  chicken, 
turkey,  veal,  beef,  lamb,  venison,  and  quail. 

Some  persons  make  it  their  business  to  cultivate  percep- 
tions of  taste.  The  definite  conclusions  reached  by  tasters 
of  teas  and  wines  seem  almost  miraculous.  Savarin,  a 
French  writer  on  taste,  instances  Roman  epicures  who 
could  decide  from  the  taste  of  fish  whether  they  lived 
above  or  below  a  certain  bridge,  and  he  also  tells  us  of 
modern  gourmands  who  knew  from  the  taste  of  the  joint 
on  which  leg  a  partridge  was  accustomed  to  sleep,  and  of 
connoisseurs  who  could  tell  under  what  latitude  a  wine  was 
produced  as  accurately  as  an  astronomer  can  predict  anj 
eclipse. 

Reasoning  Involved  in  Perception.  —  As  we  shall  see 
later,  comparison  is  the  basis  of  reasoning.  When  we 
perceive,  we  compare  one  sensation  with  others,  or  with 
the  memories  of  others.  Not  until  we  notice  a  likeness  and 
a  difference  between  sensations  can  we  perceive.  If  the 
sensations  from  a  tree  and  a  sheep  were  the  same,  we  could 
not  tell  them  apart.  Sometimes  frescoing  deceives  us 


PRESENTATION.  8 1 

because  the  ocular  sensations  from  that  and  from  carvings 
in  relief  are  the  same. 

The  mental  process  in  the  case  of  a  person  who  touched 
a  chestnut  bur  in  the  dark  would  be  this  :  — 

Sensations  from  a  chestnut  bur  alone  have  this  peculiar  rough 
quality. 

The  present  sensation  has  this  quality. 

This  sensation  must  come  from  a  chestnut  bur. 

In  translating  a  visual  sensation  into  an  orange,  we 
should  reason  thus  :  — 

Sensations  of  this  peculiar  quality  have  previously  been  found  to  be 
caused  by  an  orange. 

The  present  sensation  has  this  quality. 

The  present  sensation  is  caused  by  an  orange. 

If  a  rose  were  held  close  to  our  nostrils  in  the  dark 
without  touching  them,  we  should  translate  the  olfactory 
sensation  into  a  rose  in  this  way  :  —  Previous  odorous  sen- 
sations similar  to  this  have  been  due  to  a  rose,  therefore 
this  must  mean  a  rose.  If  a  piece  of  peach  were  put  into 
the  mouth  when  we  were  blindfolded,  we  should  at  once 
interpret  the  sensation  as  due  to  a  peach,  because  of 
resemblance  to  previous  sensations  from  tasting  peaches. 
We  hear  a  peculiar  resonant  noise  and  say  that  some  one 
is  beating  on  a  drum,  because  previous  similar  jensations 
have  been  found  to  spring  from  such  a  source^  #3,/ 

jf  Transferred  Perceptions.  — A  transferred  perception  is 
one  that  takes  data  from  one  sense  in  order  to  draw~a-con- 
cluaion  that  primarily  depends  on  data  furnished_byjin other 
geusey  Perception  may  draw  tactile  conclusions  from  the 
sense  of  sight,  visual  conclusions  from  the  sense  of  touch, 
in  short,  any  conclusion  immediately  proper  to  one  sense 
from  any  other  sense.  We  glance  at  a  chestnut  bur  and 
HALLECK'S  PSYC.  —  6  . 


82  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

say  that  it  looks  rough.  The  sense  of  touch  alone  can 
primarily  determine  whether  an  object  is  rough.  We  con- 
clude that  the  bur  is  rough  because  certain  variations  of 
light  and  shade  have  been  found  to  be  associated  with 
uneven  surfaces.  The  process  of  reasoning  employed  is  as 
follows  :  — 

All  substances  with  this  appearance  have,  when  touched,  proved  to 
be  rough. 

This  substance  has  this  appearance. 
It  will  prove  rough  to  touch. 

The  doctor  taps  on  a  man's  chest  and  hears  a  dull 
sound.  The  physician  at  once  says  that  tubercles  have 
formed,  although  he  can  neither  see  nor  touch  them.  He 
plainly  cannot  hear  them,  and  yet  he  decides  from  the 
sound  emitted  that  they  are  there.  He  reasons  thus:  — 

Autopsies  have  proved  to  sight  and  touch  that  previous  cases  of  a 
peculiar  lack  of  resonance  were  due  to  tubercles. 

This  case  resembles  those. 

An  autopsy  would  prove  to  sight  and  touch  the  existence  of  tubeh- 
cles  in  this  case. 

If  the  physician  could  not  have  used  transferred  per- 
ception, he  would  have  been  compelled  to  cut  the  patient 
open  in  order  to  demonstrate  by  sight  and  touch  the 
existence  of  the  tubercles.  The  importance  of  the  trans- 
ferred perceptions  is  apparent.  We  can  determine  from 
the  sound  by  tapping  on  a  barrel,  without  the  trouble  of 
unheading  it,  whether  it  is  empty.  Without  such  percep- 
tions as  these,  we  could  not  tell  from  the  sense  of  sight, 
that  a  glowing  red  iron  would  feel  hot.  We  should  be 
obliged  to  touch  it. 

Mature  perception  employs  the  sense  most  easily  used 
to  draw  conclusions  for  another  sense.  As  we  grow  older, 


PRESENTATION.  83 

we  save  a  vast  amount  of  time  and  trouble  in  this  way. 

nf  rmr  Irnrtwjprlffp  mm  PS  through  infp.rpjirp 


What  is  a  Perceived  Object?— (A  perceived  object  is  one 
known  to  have  a  certain  place  in  space,  to  possess  certain 
qualities  believed  to  inhere  in  it,  and  to  exist  now  in  regard 
to  time.)  It  is  the  business  of  perception  to  localize  and 
objectify.  We  perceive  an  apple  visually  when  we  have 
placed  it  at  the  proper  distance  on  a  tree,  and  when  we 
have  projected  the  color  sensation  from  our  eyes  into  the 
apple.  In  other  words,  we  locate  the  apple  and  transfer 
the  sensation  of  color  from  our  subjective  sense  to  the 
object,  the  apple.  Perception  always  regards  a  sensation 
as  a  quality  belonging  to  some  object. 

A  perception  of  a  thing  is  not  a  product  of  one  sense,  but 
a  fabric  woven  of  material  from  all.  An  apple  is  an  object 
our  idea  of  which  is  formed  from  tactile,  muscular,  visual, 
auditory,  olfactory,  gustatory,  and  temperature  sensations. 
Knowledge  of  the  apple  gained  through  sight  alone  would 
be  very  incomplete. 

The  fusion  of  sensations  into  a  finished  perceptional  prod- 
uct is  absolutely  necessary.  A  blind  man,  from  sensations 
of  touch,  was  very  familiar  with  a  cat.  When  he  was  en- 
abled to  see,  he  did  not  recognize  her  when  she  came  into 
the  room.  He  had  to  pick  her  up  before  he  knew  what  such 
a  visible  object  was.  Even  after  he  had  handled  her  and 
looked  at  her  at  the  same  time,  he  was  a  long  while  in  so 
fusing  his  sensations  that  he  could  recognize  her  by  sight. 

The  explanation  of  the  origin  of  our  ideas  of  space  and 
time  must  be  left  to  metaphysics.     It  is  the  business  of] 
psychology  only  to  notice  how  the  mind  actually  works,/ 
not   to  explain   how  it   is  possible  for  it   to  work   thus./ 
The  physicist  does  not  try  to  explain  how  matter  origi- 


84  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

nally  got  the  power  of  exerting  the  pulling  force  of  gravity 
across  millions  of  miles  of  space.  He  simply  notices  how 
that  force  actually  works,  and  he  finds  out  that  the  power 
of  gravity  is  inversely  proportional  to  the  square  of  the 
distance.  So  the  mind  has  the  power  of  locating  its  own 
sensations  in  matter,  —  transferring  the  color  and  taste  to 
the  strawberry,  the  sound  to  the  organ,  the  odor  to  the 
rose,  the  sensation  of  softness  to  the  feather.  We  have 
shown  the  steps  in  the  process,  but  have  not  explained  how 
the  mind  originally  got  the  power  to  take  a  single  step. 

APPERCEPTION. 

Meaning  of  the  Term.  —  This  term  is  frequently  met 
with  in  German  writers  ;  although  some  modern  psy- 
chologists  decline  to  use  it,  we  may  acquire  a  new  point 
of  view  of  our  mental  life  by  regarding  apperception  as 
the  perception  of  things  in  relation  to  the  ideas 


we  already  possess.  An  illustration  will  make  this  defini- 
tion clear.  There  is  a  story  of  a  boy  who  concealed 
himself  in  a  tree  and  watched  the  passers.  When  one 
man  remarked  to  his  friend  what  a  fine  stick  of  timber 
the  tree  would  make,  the  boy  said,  "Good  morning,  Mr. 
Carpenter."  Soon  another  passer  said,  "That  is  good 
bark."  "Good  morning,  Mr.  Tanner."  Presently  a  young 
man  remarked,  "  I'll  venture  there's  a  squirrel's  nest  in 
that  tree."  "Good  morning,  Mr.  Hunter."  In  one  sense 
those  men  saw  exactly  the  same  tree,  had  the  same  sensa- 
tions of  color  and  light  from  the  same  object  ;  but  from 
the  way  the  men  apperceived  the  tree,  the  boy  was  able 
to  tell  their  leading  vocations.  Each  apperceived  the  tree 
in  terms  of  his  most  prominent  experience. 

In  one  sense  perception  is  an  apperceiving  process,  for 


PRESENTATION.  85 

each  new  sensation  is  biased  by  previous  sensations  ;  each 
new  perception,  by  previous  perceptions.  Association  is 
one  form  of  apperception  ;  thinking,  another.  For  this 
reason  we  shall  treat  the  subject  very  briefly  here,  but  we 
shall  return  to  it  under  the  guise  of  association  and  thought. 

The  Apperception  of  an  Object  Differs  with  Individuals. 
— We  always^ jsee_things  in  terms  of  our  past  experience. 
and  not  as  the  things  actually  are  The  truths  of  our 
world  are  determined  by  what  we  see,  but  we  for  the 
most  part  see  only  those  things  which  we  can  join  to  some- 
thing in  our  line  of  experience.  Other  things  do  not  exist 
for  us.  Their  truths  are  not  a  part  of  our  world.  The 
brain  is  a  changed  organ  after  each  sensation  or  percep- 
tion. Any  new  perception  must  feel  the  deflecting  force 

c  c  A.-  Cj*NOi*A   ft*?  TYNM-QiU,  oL«  \jLjS,    «*fau-gy3  ' 

of  former  perceptions. 

A  U-       1 

A  woman  may  apperceive  a  passing  bird  as  an  ornament 
to  her  bonnet ;  a  fruit  grower,  as  an  insect  killer ;  a  poet, 
as  a  songster ;  an  artist,  as  a  fine  bit  of  coloring  and  form. 
The  housewife  may  apperceive  old  rags  as  something  to 
be  thrown  away  ;  a  ragpicker,  as  something  to  be  gathered 
up.  A  carpenter,  a  botanist,  an  ornithologist,  a  hunter,  and 
a  geologist  walking  through  a  forest  would  not  see  the 
same  things.  These  men  would  have  brains  which  would 
respond  differently  to  the  same  stimuli.  The  ornithologist 
might  hear  every  bird  note ;  the  botanist  with  equally  keen 
ears  might  not  have  an  auditory  sensation  of  sufficient 
intensity  to  affect  consciousness. 

Brief  Statements  of  Some  Important  Apperceptive  Truths. 
—  I.  When  we  look  at  a  new  object,  memories  of  sensa- 
tions from  partially  similar  past  objects  will  always  exert 
a  deflecting  force.  When  the  South-Sea  Islanders  first 


86  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

saw  a  goat,  they  apperceived  it  as  a  hog,  with  which  they 
were  familiar. 

II.  We  must  know  the  entire  previous  history  of  a  man's 
consciousness  to  be  able  to  tell  how  he  will  see  a  certain 
thing,  for  memories  of  past  sensations  bias  his  ways  of 
regarding  it.     The  judges  of  the  Supreme  Court  and  the 
members  of  a  jury  often  bring  in  a  different  verdict  from 
precisely  the  same  testimony. 

III.  The  expression,  "  None  so  blind  as  those  who  will  not 
see,"  often  means,  none  so  blind  as  those  who  cannot  see. 
Past  sensations  and  perceptions  have  biased  the  man  so  that 
he  has  only  one  point  of  view  from  which  to  regard  the  fact. 
The  owner  of  a  silver  mine  must  be  expected  to  look  at  its 
product  differently  from  other  people.     The  slave  was  af 
different  being  in  the  eye  of  his  master  and  of  those  who 
owned  no  slaves. 

IV.  Later  in  life  perception  comes  either  to  disregard  new 
sensations  or  to  forcibly  liken  them  to  old  ones.     It  works 
like  the  fabled  Grecian  monster,  who  made  all  guests  fit  his 
bed  :  if  too  tall,  he  cut  off  their  feet ;  if  too  short,  he  had 
the  visitors  stretched.     Thus  men  become  what  are  popu- 
larly termed  "old  fogies."     They  regard  a  new  discovery 
or  fact  in  an  old  way.     They  assured  Columbus  that  men 
coukl  not  walk  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  earth  with  their 
heads  down  and  their  feet  up. 

V.  Whatever  we  learn  early  in  life  will  influence  us  for 
all  future  time.     If  we  are  taught  to  regard  a  thing  in  a 
certain  light  now,  all  our  subsequent  perceptions  will  be 
colored  by  that  light.     An  intelligent  man  said  that  he 
disliked  Milton  and  had  read  but  little  of  him.     That  man 
acquired  that   way   of  regarding   Milton   from    a  former 
teacher.' ! '.  If  we  go  with  vicious  associates  who  have  false 
views  of  life,  they  may  soon  become  our  views  and  all  our 


PRESENTATION.  87 

subsequent  actions  may  be  colored  by  them.  We  may 
as  well  expect  our  bodies  to  escape  the  force  of  gravity 
as  our  minds  to  elude  the  deflecting  power  of  all  former 
associations  and  experience. 

ILLUSIONS. 

Causes  of  Illusions.  —  We  shall  here  consider  only  those 
cases  of  illusion  where  the  external  object  does  not  corre- 
spond to  the  perceptional  idea. 

.  There  is  sometimes  primary  illusion  of  the  senses. 
Whenever  gray  looks  green  on  a  red  background,  the  eye 
deceives  us,  for  its  primary  business  is  to  report  shades  of 
color  correctly.  Whenever  we  see  one  object  double,  the 
cause  of  the  illusion  is  not  due  to  mental  inference,  but  to 
lack  of  correlation  in  the  organs  of  sense.  The  senses 
would  foist  more  illusions  on  us  than  they  do,  were  it  not 
for  the  fact  that  the  mind  refuses  to  heed  these  illusory 
sensations. 

i    There  are  illusions  due  to  misinterpretation  of  exter- 

,      ,  .  .     .  .       .  1-11., 

nal  objects.  A  lace  curtain  in  a  moonlit  chamber  is  taken 
a  ghost.  A  bush  in  the  darkness  becomes  a  robber  or 
a  wild  beast.  In  these  cases  an  external  object  exists,  but 
it  is  misinterpreted.  Imaginative  activity  builds  a  large 
structure  on  a  very  slight  foundation  of  reality.  A  white 
garment  hanging  up  in  an  indistinct  light  makes  some 
persons  sure  that  they  have  seen  a  ghost. 

When  one  part  of  a  newly  perceived  object  is  the  same  as 
part  of  something  formerly  seen,  the  like  part  tends  to  set  in 
action  the  entire  brain  tract  formerly  engaged  in  perceiving 
the  known  object.  Relying  on  a  quick  glance  out  of  the 
window,  we  could  take  an  oath  that  we  saw  a  certain 
friend  coming.  We  afterward  find  that  he  was  not  in  town 


88  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

that  day.  The  hat  and  height  of  the  person  seen  indicated 
our  friend.  These  set  in  action  a  portion  of  the  brain  tract 
formerly  concerned  in  seeing  our  friend,  and  the  excitement 
spread  until  that  entire  tract  was  as  active  as  if  sensation 
currents  from  actually  seeing  the  features  of  the  friend  had 
poured  into  those  brain  cells.  A  person  wishing  to  pur- 
chase Madame  D'Arblay's  works,  saw  them  catalogued  on 
the  page  before  him,  just  as  his  attention  was  called  away 
for  a  second.  He  was  amazed  to  find  that  her  name  had  dis- 
appeared from  the  page  when  he  looked  at  it  again.  He  had 
really  seen  the  name  of  Madame  D' Aulnoy.  The  similarity 
of  the  first  part  had  aroused  the  brain  tract  concerned  in 
remembering  Madame  D'Arblay,  and  he  was  sure  that  he 
saw  her  name. 

III.  There  are  illusive  perceptions  due  to  no  present  ex- 
ternal cause.  These  internally  originated  illusions  are 
often  called  hallucinations.  Our  dreams  are  common  illus- 
trations of  these.  We  seem  actually  to  see  wild  animals 
chasing  us,  to  be  behind  a  runaway  horse,  etc.  The  cause 
of  these  imaginary  perceptions  is  in  our  brains. 

A  cerebral  memory  cell  may  sometimes  be  roused  to  as 
great  activity  as  if  a  current  from  actually  perceiving  that 
object  poured  into  that  cell.  Owing  to  intense  longing  for 
an  absent  friend,  a  certain  brain  tract  may  have  the  same 
activity  as  when  we  saw  him.  The  sign  by  which  percep- 
tion judges  being  the  same  in  both  cases,  we  actually  seem 
to  see  him.  We  have  already  noticed  that  perception  will 
not  always  enable  us  to  tell  whether  a  bell  is  still  ringing, 
or  we  are  merely  remembering  the  sound. 

Sometimes  a  diseased  condition  of  the  nerves  will  cause 
/illusions.      The  optic  nerve  may  transmit  sensations  of 
(     sight  without  external  cause.      The   abnormal   Condition 
auditory  nerves  may  cause  us  to  hear  sound. 


Q^> 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE   CULTIVATION  OF  PERCEPTION. 

Time  for  the  Cultivation  of  Perception.  —  Youth  is  pre- 
eminently the  time  for  cultivating  any  of  the  faculties. 
An  ounce  of  effort  then  will  avail  as  much  as  a. ton  of 
effort  later.  Of  all  the  mental  powers,  perception  is  the 
most  difficult  to  cultivate  after  the  age  of  twenty.  If  a 
person  is  not  a  good  perceiver  by  that  time,  in  ninety-nine 
cases  out  of  a  hundred  he  will  never  become  one.  %je  may 
cultivate  the  thinking  faculty  with  great  success  in  the 
twenties,  not  so  the  perceptiye. 

There  is  an  immense  amount  of  energy  in  the  young 
which  needs  direction,  and  it  is  most  properly  directed 
when  used  in  becoming  acquainted  with  the  world.  At 
birth,  man  comes  into  a  strange  land  which  he  must  learn 
to  know  through  perception.  This  is  certainly  a  sufficient 
outlet  for  his  energies  for  many  a  day. 

If  young  people  are  so  fortunate  as  to  go  around  with  an 
acute  observer,  their  energy  will  be  naturally  turned  in  the 
right  direction.  They  will  speedily  try  to  rival  each  other 
in  acute  perception,  when  they  notice  that  he,  in  his 
rambles,  observes  every  wild  flower,  every  bird,  every 
curiously  shaped  leaf,  every  insect  and  wild  animal. 
Houdin,  the  magician,  spent  a  month  in  cultivating  his 
perceptive  faculties  and  those  of  his  son,  by  looking  very 
carefully  as  they  rapidly  passed  the  window  of  a  toyshop 

89 


90  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

or  other  store  making  a  large  display.  Then  each  noted 
down  the  number  of  things  that  he  had  seen.  Here 
the  superiority  of  youth  over  age  was  manifested.  The 
boy  became  so  expert  that  one  glance  at  a  window  would 
enable  him  to  write  down  forty  different  objects. 

Keen  Perceptive  Faculties  Demanded  for  Success  and 
-.^.Enjoyment.  —  This  world.is.au  urganizexLbody  for  shoving 
.the  ign orant -ordncapable  to  .the,  wall,  that  their  space  may 
be  better  occupied  by  fitter  persons.  Darwin  announced 
10-tu^JtL  this  truth  by  the  famous  expression,  "  the  survival  of  the 
I  fittest."  Excellence  in  perception  is  one  of  the  factors 
that  enable  a  person  to  survive  in  competition,  which 
grows  fiercer  every  year.  The  tricks  of  trade  are  many, 
and  they  claim  as  their  special  victims  those  whose  .per- 
ceptive powers  are  deficient.  A  lady  went  into  a  certain 
store  to  buy  a  lace  collar.  It  so  happened  that  none  but 
the  cheaper  grades  were  in  stock,  and  these  did  not  suit 
her.  The  tradesman  soon  saw  that  she  could  not  tell  the 
difference  between  a  fine  and  a  coarse  grade,  or  a  machine 
and  a  hand  made  article,  so  he  kept  making  new  discoveries 
in  his  stock  and  raising  the  price  each  time.  He  noticed 
that  she  was  better  pleased  as  the  price  rose,  and  so  he  sold 
her  "a  fine  imported"  specimen  for  twelve  dollars,  which 
was  eleven  dollars  more  than  he  had  at  first  asked  her  for 
the  same  grade.  This  was  a  case  where  careful  inspection 
could  have  detected  the  fraud. 

Cultivated  perceptive  faculties  are  as  important  for 
enjoyment  as  for  material  success.  A  shrewd  Scotchman 
remarked  that  many  persons  well  versed  in  books  got  only 
a  small  fraction  of  possible  enjoyment  from  traveling.  No 
matter  whether  they  went  on  a  simple  Highland  excursion 
or  over  the  continent  of  Europe,  they  sawJbut Jit.tle»  becaus4_ 


THE  CULTIVATION  OF  PERCEPTION.  91 

they  hadjiever  been  trainH  tn  habits  of  rinse  observation 
Many  a  person,  after  returning  from  a  foreign  tour,  reads 
works  of  travel  describing  the  same  localities,  and  wonders 
why  he  saw  so  little  when  others  saw  so  much. 

One  misses  three  quarters  of  the  enjoyment  coming 
from  many  literary  masterpieces,  if  he  cannot  interpret 
and  feel  them  in  the  light  of  his  own  perceptions. 

"  Meadows  trim  with  daisies  pied, 
Shallow  brooks,  and  rivers  wide." 

i 

There  can  never  be  sympathetic  interpretation  of  pas- 
sages like  this,  unless  they  awaken  memories  based  on 
similar  perceptions.  Fortunately  most  of  us,  as  well  as 
the  poets,  can  see  without  cost  the  brooks,  meadows, 
flowers,  flocks,  clouds,  and  stars. 

Books  versus  Perception.  —  With  the  cheapening  of 
books  and  the  regorLto  them  fof4ftfefmation  on  almost  -all 

young  ought  to  be  taught  not  to  read  about  anything!^ 
which  they  can  see  for  themselves,  until  they  have  first 
learned  all  they  can  by  the  aid  of  their  senses.  Whatever 
any  one  discovers  for  himself  will  be  much  better  known 
than  what  he  reads  about  or  has  some  one  tell  him.  The 
Indian  who  had  never  read  a  book  never  failed  to  notice 
an  upturned  leaf,  a  broken  twig,  a  film  of  smoke,  a  slight 
indentation  of  the  ground,  or  anything  that  served  to  indi- 
cate the  presence  of  an  enemy  or  of  game.  The  hunters 
of  Kentucky  found  that  they  must  either  go  to  the  wall  in 
competition  with  the  red  man  or  cultivate  their  perceptive 
(acuities  so  as  to  cope  with  him  better.  The  hunters  set 
to  work  with  a  will  to  make  use  of  their  senses  and  soon 
saw  as  much  as  the  Indian. 


92  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

One  reason  why  some  uneducated  men  are  so  successful 
in  business  is  because  they  are  such  excellent  observers. 
Instead  of  poring  over  books,  these  men,  moving  around 
in  the  busy  world,  learn  facts  at  first  hand.  The  head  of 
a  large  firm,  when  asked  why  he  employed  such  an  igno- 
rant man  for  a  buyer,  replied:  "It  is  true  that  our  buyer 
cannot  spell  correctly,  and  he  has  probably  never  read  a 
book  through,  but  when  anything  comes  within  range  of 
his  eyes,  he  sees  all  there  is  to  be  seen.  He  buys  over  a 
million  dollars'  worth  a  year  for  us,  and  I  cannot  recall  any 
instance  when  he  failed  to  notice  a  defect  in  any  line  of 
goods,  or  any  feature  which  would  be  likely  to  render  them 
unsalable.  I  shall  never  put  in  a  bookish  man  as  a  buyer, 
because  he  will  not  see  anything  unless  a  book  first  points 
it  out  to  him."  This  business  man's  verdict  was  the  result 
of  observation,  which  he  said  was  superior  to  theory.  While 
there  is  nothing  that  forbids  a  proper  combination  of  books 
and  the  use  of  our  senses  at  first  hand,  such  a  combina- 
tion is  seldom  made. 

Longfellow's  stanza,  relating  to  Agassiz,  shows  that  the 
printed  page  did  not  yield  the  great  scientist  the  most  im- 
portant or  the  most  interesting  facts  :  — 

"  And  Nature,  the  old  nurse,  took 

The  child  upon  her  knee, 
Saying,  '  Here  is  a  story  book 
Thy  Father  has  written  for  thee.'" 

Necessity  of  Concentrated  Attention.  —  A  body  may  be 
imaged  on  the  retina  without  insuring  perception.  There 
must  be  an  effort  to  concentrate  the  attention  upon  the 
many  things  which  the  world  presents  to  our  senses.  A 
man  once  said  to  the  pupils  of  a  large  school,  all  of 
whom  had  often  seen  cows :  "  I  should  like  to  find  out 


THE  CULTIVATION  OF  PERCEPTION.  93 

how  many  of  you  know  whether  a  cow's  ears  are  above, 
below,  behind,  or  in  front  of  her  horns.  I  want  only 
those  pupils  to  raise  their  hand  who  are  sure  about  the 


X 


position  and  who  will  promise  to  give  a  dollar  to  charity 
if  they  answer  wrong."  Only  two  hands  were  raised. 
Their  owners  had  drawn  cows,  and  in  order  to  do  that 
had  been  forced  to  concentrate  their  attention  upon  the 
animals.  Fifteen  pupils  were  sure  that  they  had  seen 
cats  climb  trees  and  descend  them.  There  was  una- 
nimity of  opinion  that  the  cats  went  up  head  first.  When 
asked  whether  the  cats  came  down  head  or  tail  first,  the 
majority  were  sure  that  the  cats  descended  as  they  were 
never  known  to  do.  Any  one  who  had  ever  noticed  the 
shape  of  the  claws  of  any  beast  of  prey  could  have  answered 
that  question  without  seeing  an  actual  descent. 

Farmers'  boys,  who  have  often  seen  cows  and  horses  lie 
down  and  rise,  are  seldom  sure  whether  the  animals  rise 
with  their  fore  or  hind  feet  first,  or  whether  the  habit  of  the 
horse  agrees  with  that  of  the  cow  in  this  respect.  The  elm 
tree  has  about  its  leaf  a  peculiarity  which  all  ought  to 
notice  the  first  time  they  see  it,  and  yet  only  about  five 
per  cent  of  a  certain  school  could  incorporate  in  a  drawing 
this  peculiarity,  although  it  is  so  easily  outlined  on  paper. 
Perception,  to  achieve  satisfactory  results,  must  summon 
the  will  to  its  aid  to  concentrate  the  attention.  Only  the 
smallest  part  of  what  falls  upon  our  senses  at  any  time  is 
actually  perceived. 

How  to  Perceive  Things. — To  look  at  A  thing  intelli- 
gently_JsJhe  most  difficult  of  all  arts. 

The  first  rule  for  the  cultivation  of  accurate  perception 
is :  /sDo  not  try  to  perceive  the  whole  of  a  complex  object  aj 
once.  Take  the  human  face  as  an  example.  A  man,  hold- 


94  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

mg  an  important  position  to  which  he  had  been  elected,  "' 
offended  many  people  because  he  could  not  remembeijL^ 
faces,  and  hence  failed  to  recognize  individuals  the  second  * 
time  he  met  them.  His  trouble  was  in  looking  at  the  ; 
countenance  as  a  whole.  When  he  changed  his  method  of 
observation,  and  noticed  carefully  the  nose,  mouth,  eyes, 
chin,  and  color  of  hair,  he  at  once  began  to  find  recognition 
easier.  He  was  no  longer  in  danger  of  mistaking  A  for  B, 
since  he  remembered  that  the  shape  of  B's  nose  was  differ- 
ent, or  the  color  of  his  hair  at  least  three  shades  lighter. 

This  example  shows  that  another  rule  can  be  formulated : 
Pay  careful  attention  to  details.     We  are  perhaps  asked  to  ^ 
give  a  minute  description  of  the  exterior  of  a  somewhat  cS 
noted  suburban  house  that  we  have  lately  seen.     We  reply  C 
in  general  terms,  giving  the  size  and  color  of  the  house.  - 
Perhaps  we  also  have  an  idea  of  part  of  the  material  used^r 
in  the  exterior  construction.     We  are  asked  to  be  exact     , 
about  the  shape  of  the  door,  porch,  roof,  chimneys,  and  win-  \ 
dows ;  whether  the  windows  are  plane  or  circular,  whether^ 
they  have  cornices,  or  whether  the  trimmings  around  them   o 
are  of  the  same  material  as  the  rest  of  the  house.    A  friend,  '  - 
who  will  be  unable  to  see  the  house,  wishes  to  know  defi-^ 
nitely  about  the  angles  of  the  roof  and  the  way  the  win- 
dows are  arranged  with   reference  to  them.     Unless  we  ^ 
can  answer  these  questions  exactly,  we  merely  tantalize  our 
friends  by  telling  them  we  have  seen  the  house.     To  see 
an  object  merely  as  an  undiscriminated  mass  of  something 
in  a  certain  place,  is  to  do  no  more  than  a  donkey  accom 
plishes  as  he  trots  along.)^ 

Agassiz's  Method. — Agassiz's  pupils  usually  had  excel- 
lently trained  perceptive  faculties  as  one  result  of  his 
teaching.  Since  his  pupils  generally  succeeded  well  in  life. 


THE  CULTIVATION  OF  PERCEPTION.  95 

it  will  be  profitable  to  notice  how  he  trained  them.  A 
certain  student  who  wished  to  be  well  grounded  in  zoology 
presented  himself  at  the  professor's  laboratory  one  morning. 
The  professor  immediately  pulled  a  fish  out  of  its  jar  of 
alcohol,  and  said :  "  You  are  to  look  at  this  fish  carefully 
and  tell  me  when  I  return  how  much  you  have  seen.  You 
must  not  cut  it  nor  use  any  instruments  upon  it." 

The  professor  then  left  the  student  alone  with  the 
specimen.  The  student  had  seen  fish  before.  He  knew 
that  they  were  oblong  objects  with  fins  and  scales,  but  he 
looked  at  that  special  fish  for  ten  long  minutes.  He  was 
then  sure  that  he  had  seen  all  that  was  visible  from  the 
outside,  and  he  started  to  tell  the  professor  so.  The 
museum  was  carefully  searched,  but  the  thoughtless  in- 
structor had  left  the  building.  There  was  nothing  for  the 
disgusted  student  to  do  but  to  return  to  stare  at  the  unin- 
teresting fish.  Feeling  that  his  time  was  too  valuable  to 
be  wasted  in  this  way,  he  nevertheless  looked  at  the  fish 
for  a  half  hour  without  seeing  anything.  Then  he  turned 
the  fish  over.  He  looked  it  in  the  face ;  he  gazed  at 
it  from  above,  below,  behind.  Two  hours  passed  and 
he  was  inexpressibly  disgusted.  He  knew  that  it  was  a 
fish ;  but  he  was  sure  of  that  before  he  came  to  the  great 
Agassiz. 

The  student  then  put  the  fish  in  the  jar  and  went  to 
lunch.  When  he  returned  he  found  that  the  professor  had 
been  there  and  gone  away  somewhere  to  remain  for  several 
hours.  It  seemed  strange  that  such  a  man  should  be 
wanted  for  a  teacher.  Again  the  disgusted  student  stared 
at  the  fish.  This  was  growing  tiresome,  and,  to  amuse 
himself,  he  began  to  count  the  scales.  Feeling  that  this 
was  nonsense,  a  happy  thought  struck  him,  and  he  proceeded 
to  draw  the  fish.  He  had  just  made  the  interesting  dis- 


96  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE 

covery  that  the  fish  had  no  eyelids,  when  Agassiz  returned 
and  remarked  that  a  pencil  was  the  best  of  eyes.  He 
asked  the  student  to  tell  what  he  had  seen  and  looked 
disappointed  at  the  shortness  of  the  recital.  "  You  have 
not  looked  very  carefully,  keep  on  looking,"  said  Agassiz, 
who  then  left  the  room. 

The  student  then  went  to  work  with  a  will,  and,  with  his 
pencil,  he  began  to  make  discoveries,  and  to  wonder  how 
it  was  possible  for  him  to  see  so  little  at  first.  For  three 
long  days  'he  was  made  to  gaze  at  the  fish.  Agassiz 
would  occasionally  return  to  listen  to  a  recital  of  new  dis- 
coveries, but  would  answer  no  questions.  In  after  years 
the  student  said:  "This  was  the  best  zoological  lesson  I 
ever  had, — a  lesson  whose  influence  has  extended  to  the 
details  of  every  subsequent  study ;  a  legacy  the  professor 
has  left  to  me,  as  he  left  it  to  many  others,  of  inestimable 
value,  which  we  could  not  buy,  with  which  we  cannot 
part." 

If  Agassiz  had  been  an  inferior  teacher,  he  might  have 
been  afraid  of  being  charged  with  wasting  his  pupils'  time, 
and  he  might  have  answered  questions  which  the  pupils 
should  have  asked  of  their  own  senses  alone. 

A  grasshopper  is  to  most  persons  merely  an  oblong 
insect,  capable  of  jumping.  Agassiz's  pupils  say  that  after 
he  had  compelled  them  to  find  out  a  world  of  interesting 
matter  about  it,  they  would  sometimes  go  to  hear  him 
deliver  a  popular  lecture.  They  noticed  that  the  audience 
became  as  much  interested  in  the  grasshopper  as  if  he 
were  reading  from  a  romance. 

The  Best  Studies  for  the  Cultivation  of  Perception. — 

Any  study  is  good  which  compels  the  student  to  learn 
facts  from  his  own  senses.  One  study  of  this  class  is  per- 


THE  CULTIVATION   OF   PERCEPTION.  97 

haps  as  good  as  another.  Botany  is  excellent,  if  one  goes 
out  into  the  fields  and  studies  actual  flowers ;  but  it  is  a 
very  poor  study  if  one  gathers  the  facts  mainly  from  a 
text-book.  All  of  the  natural  sciences  afford  unusual 
opportunity  for  using  the  senses.  Among  these  sciences 
may  be  mentioned  physics,  geology,  ornithology,  ento- 
mology, botany.  They  all  require  the  most  searching  use 
of  the  perceptive  faculties.  In  connection  with  them, 
drawing  should  be  taught.  If  any  one  wishes  to  find  out 
how  imperfectly  he  has  perceived  anything,  let  him  under- 
take to  draw  it.  In  order  to  draw  well,  one  must  perceive 
well. 

In  general,  the  scenes  amid  which  we  move  every  day 
furnish  excellent  object  lessons  for  our  perceptive  faculties. 
Every  time  we  enter  a  street  car  we  see  different  types  of 
people,  and  there  is  a  great  deal  to  be  noticed  about  each 
type.  /Every  human  countenance  shows  its  past  history 
to  the  one  who  knows  how  to  look./  Whenever  we  take  a 
walk,  there  is  vastly  more  to  see  than  we  have  time  to 
inspect.  No  one  can  complain  that  the  most  ordinary  life 
does  not  furnish  sufficient  materials  with  which  to  culti- 
vate perception.  In  the  most  remote  backwoods  there  are 
always  the  clouds,  the  flowers,  the  birds,  the  trees,  the 
animals,  the  stars.  Mother  Earth  tries  to  entertain  us  by 
shifting  the  scenery  from  day  to  day  and  from  season  to 
season.  The  only  trouble  is  we  will  not  look.  Having 
eyes  we  do  not  see,  and  having  ears  we  do  not  hear.  The 
scenery  of  the  heavens  is  more  magnificent  on  a  clear  night 
than  anything  that  was  ever  put  on  an  artificial  stage. 
A  good  pair  of  eyes  are  required  to  trace  out  the  different 
constellations  and  to  recognize  them  in  their  constantly 
shifting  positions.  When  one  is  familiar  with  the  myths 
which  the  brightest  race  that  ever  lived  has  woven  about 
HALLECK'S  PSYC.  —  7 


9tf  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

these  constellations,  he  can  look  at  the  heavens  as  he 
would  at  the  pages  of  a  grand  romance.  Things  fit  for 
the  enjoyment  and  instruction  of  a  prince  are  every  day 
lost  to  the  poor  observer. 

Methods  for  Cultivating  Rapidity  of  Perception.  —  Life 
is  short  and  there  are  many  things  to  see.  Existence 
yields  the  most  to  him  whose  mental  faculties  work  the 
quickest.  Thirty  years  measure  a  longer  life  span  for 
some  than  seventy  for  others.  Some  persons  will  take 
in  more  at  one  glance  than  others  do  from  torpidly  staring 
around  for  half  an  hour. 

Criminals  have  some  excellent  methods  for  training  the 
young.  An  instructor  in  the  department  of  thievery  will 
place  on  the  palm  of  his  hand  a  number  of  objects,  say  a 
coin,  a  chestnut,  a  button,  a  key,  and  a  bean.  He  will 
unclasp  his  hand  for  a  second  before  a  number  of  boys, 
who  are  expected  not  only  to  name  all  the  objects,  but  to 
describe  them.  For  instance,  the  value  of  the  coin  must 
be  given  and  the  shape  of  the  key  accurately  described 
or  drawn  on  paper  or  in  the  dirt.  Then  the  instructor 
will,  perhaps,  substitute  a  hazelnut  for  the  chestnut  and 
a  pea  for  the  bean,  but  woe  be  to  the  boy  who  does  not 
instantaneously  detect  the  difference.  These  boys  are 
sent  out  for  the  feigned  purpose  of  begging.  They  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  parlor,  the  hall,  the  kitchen,  or  the  office, 
and  in  that  one  glance  they  note  the  position  and  value  of 
everything.  They  then  report  to  the  men  who  sent  them 
out  and  a  burglary  is  planned.  It  is  a  pity  that  such 
excellent  methods  of  teaching  rapidity  of  perception  are, 
for  the  most  part,  left  to  criminals. 

Successful  gamblers  often  become  so  expert  in  noticing 
the  slightest  change  of  an  opponent's  facial  expression 


THE   CULTIVATION   OF   PERCEPTION.  99 

that  they  will  estimate  the  strength  of  his  hand  by  the 
involuntary  signs  which  appear  in  the  face  and  which  are 
frequently  checked  the  instant  they  appear. 

There  are  many  excellent  methods  for  cultivating  rapidity 
of  perception,  and  they  can  be  employed  with  but  little 
trouble.  At  the  start,  place  upon  a  small  table  seven  dif- 
ferent articles.  Remove  for  an  instant  the  cloth  used  to 
cover  them,  and  then  have  some  one  describe  the  articles. 
This  can  be  played  as  a  game,  and  prizes  can  be  offered  to  the 
one  naming  the  most  things.  Only  one  should  be  allowed 
to  approach  the  table  at  once,  and  the  cloth  should  be 
raised  for  the  same  length  of  time  for  each  one.  To  avoid 
disputes,  each  one  should  at  once  write  down  in  another 
room,  or  in  a  different  part  of  the  same  room,  the  name  of 
every  article  seen.  The  number  of  things  on  the  table 
should  be  gradually  increased  to  forty. 

Houdin's  method  of  walking  rapidly  by  a  shop  window, 
and  then  writing  down  as  many  as  possible  of  the  articles 
displayed,  is  a  good  exercise.  If  different  things  are  at 
the  same  time  tossed  into  the  air  and  allowed  to  fall  behind 
a  screen,  or  into  a  basket,  bag,  or  sheet  gathered  up,  great 
quickness  of  perception  will  be  necessary  to  name  and 
describe  all.  A  word  may  be  written  on  a  revolving  black- 
board, which  is  then  to  be  turned  with  a  rapidity  barely 
sufficient  to  allow  the  word  to  be  made  out  at  the  first 
trial.  New  words  or  sentences  should  then  be  added. 
With  practice  a  sensible  statement  of  several  lines  can  be 
read  at  one  glance.  The  late  President  Porter,  of  Yale,  was 
credited  with  being  able  to  read  at  a  glance  a  quarter  of  a 
page  of  an  ordinary  sized  book. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  things  which  are  rapidly 
done  are  not  for  that  reason  the  worse  done.  The  fingers 
may  be  almost  invisible  in  their  rapid  flight  over  the  piano, 


IOO  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

and  yet  a  better  tune  may  be  played  than  if  they  were 
placed  slowly,  one  by  one,  on  the  proper  keys.  A 
wide-awake  eagle  would  probably  see  more  of  a  thing  at 
one  glance  than  would  a  drowsy  lizard  in  a  quarter  of  an 
hour.  Extreme  rapidity  of  perception,  due  to  careful 
training,  was  one  of  the  factors  enabling  Houdin  and  his 
son  to  astonish  everybody  and  to  amass  a  fortune.  He 
placed  a  domino  before  the  boy,  and  instead  of  allowing 
him  to  count  the  spots,  required  him  to  give  the  sum  total 
at  once.  This  exercise  was  continued  until  each  could  give 
instantaneously  the  sum  of  the  spots  on  a  dozen  dominoes. 
The  sum  was  given  just  as  accurately  as  if  five  minutes 
had  been  consumed  in  adding. 

Houdin,  after  recounting  these  methods  and  their  results, 
and  saying  that  these  feats  are  often  surpassed  by  persons 
in  ordinary  life,  writes :  "  Thus,  for  instance,  I  can  safely 
assert  that  a  lady  seeing  another  pass  at  full  speed  in  a 
carriage  will  have  had  time  to  analyze  her  toilette  from  her 
bonnet  to  her  shoes,  and  be  able  to  describe  not  only  the' 
fashion  and  quality  of  the  stuffs,  but  also  say  if  the  lace 
be  real  or  only  machine  made.      I  have  known  ladies  to  do 
this." 
/This  age  of  the  world  wants  persons  who  can  do  things 

/not  only  well  but  quickly.      Those  who  cannot  combine 
both  qualities  will  be  pushed  to  the  rear  in  the  struggle 

V  for  existence.  ^ 

/ 


CHAPTER  V. 

REPRESENTATION. 

MEMORY. 

^ 

^Relation  of  Memory  to  Perception.  —  If  things  left  no 

mental  impress  after  they  were  present  to  our  senses,  we 
should  not  be  as  wise  at  threescore  and  ten  as  we  now 
are  at  five.  On  seeing  an  object  a  second  (or  third) 
time  we  could  not  recognize  it,  or  know  that  our  home 
was  our  home,  or  that  a  red-hot  iron  was  red  hot.  After 
the  mind  has  perceived  things,  it  has  the  power  of  repre- 
senting them  again  to  itself,  or  of  remembering  them,  as 
we  say  in  everyday  language.  It  is  a  function  of  mind 
to  remember,  just  as  capillary  action  is  a  function  of  cin- 
qhona  and  maple  trees,  or  as  the  bearing  of  apples  is  a 
function  of  apple  trees.  All  these  functions  are,  of  course, 
mysteries  at  bottom. 

Following  the  lead  of  physicists  who  have  shown  that 
heat,  light,  and  electricity  are  all  due  to  vibrations  in  the 
same   ether,  and  who  are   striving   to  show  that  all   the 
metals  and  the  elements  are,  in  the  last  analysis,  one  and 
^he  same  substance,  the  tendency  of  modern  psychologists^ 
is    to   look   upon    memory,  perception,  thought,  emotion,  I 
imagination,  and  will  as  one  and  the  same  thing.     But  an  1 
important  consideration  is  overlooked.     It  is  probably  true 
that  almost  all  the  phenoniena  cognizable  by  the  senses 
are  due  to  vibrations,  but  it   is  not  true  that  vibrations 


IO2  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

of  the  same  intensity  will  produce  all  these  different  phe- 
nomena. Heat  comes  to  consciousness  as  something 
different  from  sound.  Perception,  memory,  etc.,  are  func- 
tions of  the  same  mind,  but  of  the  same  mind  acting  in 
different  ways. 

In  spite  of  all  that  metaphysicians  may  say  to  the  con- 
trary, a  man  would  not  be  considered  sane  if  he  had  lost 
the  power  of  distinguishing  between  objects  of  sense  and  of 
memory,  nor  would  his  testimony  be  considered  valid  in  a 
court  of  law.  And  yet  the  activity  of  a  brain  cell  due  to 
the  perception  of  an  object,  and  the  innervation  of  the 
same  cell  caused  by  mental  effort  in  recalling  the  object, 
are  much  more  alike  than  is  commonly  supposed.  This 
truth  will  be  emphasized  later.  At  the  same  time  popular 
common  sense  is  true  when  it  declares  that  memories  of  a 
feast  dispel  no  pains  of  hunger,  and  that  the  memories  of 
a  red-hot  iron  are  not  so  painful  as  the  original  sensation. 

The  Objects  of  Memory.  —  Memory  is  a  conscious  revival 
of  any  kind  of  past  mental  experience.  We  may  recall 
not  only  any  object  that  has  been  present  to  any  of  the 
senses,  but  also  any  former  mental  experience,  such  as 
thinking,  feeling,  willing.  We  frequently  hear  some  one 
say,  "I  shall  never  forget  how  I  felt  when  that  happened." 

All  sense  objects  are  not  recalled  with  equal  ease.  The 
majority  of  persons  have  the  keenest  memories  for  objects 
of  sight.  Sounds  are  less  easily  recalled  ;  while  touches! 
tastes,  and  odors  seldom  give  many  clear-cut  memories.  . 
There  are,  however,  many  persons  who,  like  Beethoven, 
can  remember  sounds  more  distinctly  than  anything  else. 
There  are  said  to  have  been  gourmands  whose  mental 
imagery  consisted  of  tastes  of  partridge,  terrapin,  jellies, 
sauces,  etc.  When  the  dog  dreams,  it  is  evident  from  his 


REPRESENTATION.  1  03 

quivering  nostrils  that  his  memory  images  are  chiefly  due 
to  smell. 

f— 

The  greatest  poets  have  had  extremely  good  memories 
for  past  emotional  states.  When  an  idea  of  an  object 
that  had  caused  them  an  emotion  at  any  past  time  was  re- 
called, there  were  also  recalled  their  feelings  at  that  time. 
In  middle  age,  Shakespeare  could  remember  his  feelings 
during  boyhood.  This  power  was  one  of  the  factors  in  his 
greatness.  Most  persons  have  indifferent  memories-  for 
past  feelings.  Persons  are  often  heard  to  say  :  "  When  I 
get  well,  I  shall  never  forget  how  I  felt  when  I  was  sick. 
I  shall  hereafter  be  far  more  attentive  and  considerate  to 
the  sick."  In  the  majority  of  instances,  on  recovery,  the 
memories  of  these  feelings  soon  grow  dim.  Mentally,  man 
is  as  yet  an  imperfectly  evolved  creature.  It  is  conceiva- 
ble that  the  man  of  the  future  may  make  fuller  use  of  all 
his  powers  and  be  as  superior  to  his  present  self  as  the 
locomotive  is  to  the  stagecoach. 


/«^    ccft     -vv-ftLC     r    JVU-AMM 

Physical  Basis  of  Memory.  —  After  a  new  sensation, 
it  is  probable  that  the  cortex  of  the  brain  never  returns 
to  its  exact  former  state.  There  is  a  certain  change  in 
some  brain  cell,  and  this  change  furnishes  the  physical 
basis  for  conscious  memory.  The  number  of  cells  in  the 
human  brain  has  been  estimated  at  from  600,000,000  to 
2,000,000,000.  The  wisest  person  that  ever  lived  prob- 
arbly  had  spwral  milHoj  brain  cells  that  were  more  or 
less  idle. 

Repeated  sensations  from  the  same  object  modify  the 
brain  cells  more  effectively.  The  changed  molecular 
arrangement  tends  to  become  permanent.  One  sensation, 
if  of  sufficient  interest  or  intensity,  may  impress  itself 
ineffaceably  upon  the  brain  ;  but  in  the  majority  of  cases 


104  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

repeated  impressions  are  necessary.  The  brain  seems  to 
work  very  much  as  the  fingers  do  in  playing  the  piano. 
They  need  much  practice  to  become  pliable ;  if  the  prac- 
tice is  intermitted,  their  pliability  diminishes.  If  the  brain] 
cells  are  not  brought  into  frequent  action,  they  also  lose! 
their  cunning,  and  we  forget.  We  learn  a  language  so 
as  to  speak  it  fairly  well ;  then  we  do  not  use  it  for  five 
years.  If  at  the  end  of  that  time  we  attempt  to  converse 
in  it,  we  shall  notice  how  "rusty"  we  have  become.  Five 
years'  absence  from  a  piano  will  diminish  the  capacity  of 
the  fingers  for  playing.  It  is  well  to  know  that  the  same 
law  applies  to  brain  exercise  as  to  the  exercise  of  other 
parts  of  the  body. 

Again,  the  brainj  like  the  muscles,  js_the-most__Eliable 
in_ youth.  The  brain  cannot  take  on  new  modifications  in 
advanced  life,  just  as  an  old  pair  of  hands  cannot  learn 
how  to  play  the  piano  well.  Millions  of  facts  should  be 
stowed  away  in  the  youthful  brain.  There  is  not  a  mo- 
ment to  spare  while  the  brain  is  still  plastic.  When  the 
blacksmith  has  his  iron  nearly  white-hot,  he  strikes  quickly 
and  fashions  it  as  he  chooses.  If  he  were  to  sit  down  and 
wait  until  it  cooled  before  striking,  it  would  no  longer 
be  pliable  under  his  hands.  Persons  who  do  not  work 
hard  with  their  youthful  brains  are  like  this  mistaken 
blacksmith. 

An  intelligent  old  professor  was  told  a  fact  which  made 
a  certain  theory  of  his  impossible.  His  lecture  a  week  later 
showed  that  he  still  taught  the  old  theory.  His  brain 
cells  could  not  take  on  the  modification  demanded  by  the 
new  fact.  The  brain  paths  were  too  deeply  marked  for 
his  ideas  to  escape  their  grooves. 

How  matter  lodges  in  a  youthful  brain  is  shown  in  the 
classical  case  of  the  German  servant  girl.  When  she  was 


REPRESENTATION.  IO5 

very  young,  she  heard  a  clergyman  read  aloud  passages 
from  Hebrew,  Greek,  and  Latin  authors.  Of  course  she 
understood  nothing  that  was  read.  Years  after,  when 
she  was  delirious,  she  repeated  many  of  the  passages  with 
literal  exactness.  Her  youthful  brain  had  retained  impres- 
sions which  had  no  intellectual  meaning  to  her.  Just  as 
a  cut  or  bruise  modifies  the  skin  and  may  leave  a  lifelong 
scar,  so  do  sensations  modify  the  brain.  Were  it  not 
modified  by  them,  there  would  be  no  reason  why  the 
nerves  of  the  ear  and  the  eye  should  end  in  the  brain  and 
register  their  sensations  in  it.  When  the  temporal  lobes 
of  the  brain  are  diseased,  the  memory  for  spoken  words  is 
impaired.  This  shows  that  the  activity  of  the  brain  cells 
is  as  necessary  in  the  process  of  recalling  something  as 
in  the  original  perception. 

The  theory  of  the  physical  basis  of  memory  has  not  been 
generally  taught,  because  it  was  thought  that  this  theory 
would  lead  to  materialism.  Should  the  theory  prove  to  be 
true,  it  was  supposed  that  the  soul  could  not  be  immortal. 
It  was  asked :  If  the  mind  can  call  up  ideas  only  with 
the  aid  of  the  brain,  what  can  the  mind  do  when  the 
decay  of  death  has  settled  upon  the  brain  ?  But  if  a 
theory  is  true,  it  will  do  no  good  to  reject  it  for  fear  of  the 
consequences.  If,  on  a  certain  occasion,  we  very  much  dis- 
like to  have  two  and  two  make  four,  it  will  do  no  good  to 
insist  that  the  sum  is  only  three.  But  the  alarm  is  need- 
less in  this  case.  One  person  can  talk  to  another  in  a 
distant  city  only  by  means  of  a  telephone  wire.  If  the 
wire  is  broken,  the  speaker  can  no  longer  make  the  other 
hear ;  but  it  does  not  therefore  follow  that  the  speaker  has 
ceased  to  exist.  The  brain  may  play  a  part  analogous  to 
the  telephone  wire.  It  has  never  been  shown  that  con- 
sciousness cannot  have  as  much  of  an  existence  apart  from 


IO6  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

the  brain  as  a  speaker  can  apart  from  a  telephone.  All 
that  has  been  shown  is  that  consciousness  can  manifest 
itself  to  mortals  only  by  means  of  physical  mechanism. 

Memory  a  Special  Case  of  Imaginative  Representation* 
—  The  mind  has  the  peculiar  power  of  forming  images, 
which  in  so-called  literal  memory  are  symbols  of  the  object 
represented.  Thus,  I  form  an  image  of  an  ellipsoidal  yel- 
low object,  and  this  image  serves  my  mind  as  a  symbol 
of  a  lemon,  when  the  fruit  is  riot  present  to  my  senses. 
The  chapter  on  imagination  will  show  that  there  are 
no  absolute  lines  of  demarcation  between  images  of  so- 
called  memory  and  of  the  imaginative  power.  Both  are 
products  of  this  latter  power.  A  discussion  of  the  like- 
ness and  difference  in  these  products  had  better  be  re- 
served until  we  consider  the  imagination.  We  may  here 
define  memory  images  as  products  of  the  imaginative  power, 
which  serve  as  symbols  of  actually  existing  things  previously 
experienced.  We  may  further  say  that  these  image  sym- 
bols differ  in  the  fidelity  wherewith  they  represent  such 
objects.  Memory  images  are  those  which  most  nearly  rep- 
resent existing  things.  We  shall  consider  other  images 
in  the  chapter  on  imagination.  In  psychology  the  term 
"  image  "  is  no  more  applicable  to  products  derived  from 
the  eye  than  to  those  of  the  other  senses.  It  is  as  proper 
to  speak  of  auditory  as  of  visual  images. 

Two  Theories  of  Memory  Images.  —  It  has  often  been 
asked  :  Where  are  the  images  of  memory  when  they  are 
not  present  to  consciousness  ?  We  see  a  man  one  day,  but 
do  not  think  of  him  again  for  a  month.  We  can  then  call 
up  a  distinct  image  of  him.  Where  was  the  image  of.  the 
man  during  the  month  ? 


REPRESENTATION.  1 07 

^  -  The  first  theory  is  that  the  full-fledged  idea  is  in  the 
mind,  but  slumbering  beneath  the  stream,  of  conscious- 
ness ;  just  as  a  person  is  alive  when  sound  asleep,  without 
being  aware  of  the  fact.  When  we  are  not  conscious  of 
an  idea,  it  is  believed  to  disappear  just  as  a  diver  does 
beneath  the  surface  of  the  water ;  and  the  one  is  held  to 
keep  its  form  as  intact  as  the  other  during  this  disappear- 
ance. This  theory  further  holds  that  the  images  of 
memory  are  totally  unlike  those  of  perception. 

*X  -The  second  theory  starts  by  saying  that  an  idea  is  the 
mind  at  work.  AflJileaJias-na-existence.  out  of  a.  conscious 
miruL  Brain  cells  exist  with  structures  modified  because 
of  certain  sensations,  and  when  consciousness  uses  these 
cells,  ideas  spring  up.  To  ask,  therefore,  where  the  mem- 
ory image  is,  would  be  analogous  to  asking :  Where  are  the 
movements  in  the  fingers  of  a  trained  piano  player  while 
he  is  asleep?  The  movements  are  nowhere,  but  there 
are  a  modification  and  a  capacity  in  the  fingers,  enabling 
them  to  repeat,  or  reproduce,  those  movements.  A  repre- 
sented memory  idea  is  the  mind  at  work  in  the  same  way 
in  which  it  has  worked  before.  If  we  are  asked  how  it  is 
possible  for  the  mind  to  fashion  so  strange  an  immaterial 
symbol  as  a  conscious  idea  to  represent  something,  we  can 
no  more  answer  than  we  can  tell  why  one  vine  should  bear 
watermelons  and  another  pumpkins,  or  why  either  vine 
should  bear  anything. 

This  theory  makes  it  clear  that,  if  an  idea  is  simply 
mental  action,  a  certain  idea  can  exist  only  when  the  mind 
is  working  in  a  certain  way.  Other  ideas  exist  when  the 
mind  works  in  different  ways.  A  good  mind  remembers 
how  to  work  in  many  different  ways.  If  a  piece  of  cloth 
had  the  power  both  of  folding  and  of  unfolding  itself,  it 
would  more  easiiy  fold  itself  again  in  the  places  where  it 


IO8  PSYCHOLOGY   AND    PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

was  before  folded.  It  is  so  with  memory.  The  mind  has 
a  natural  tendency  to  work  again  in  the  same  way  in  which 
it  has  worked  before,  and  the  process  of  so  doing  is  mem- 
ory. It  will  do  us  no  harm  to  return  to  the  phraseology 
of  everyday  life  and  to  speak  of  recalling  ideas  or  even 
objects,  if  we  understand  what  is  really  meant  thereby. 
We  may,  if  we  wish,  speak  metaphorically  of  an  idea  as 
the  fruit  of  the  mind,  in  the  same  sense  that  an  apple  is 
the  fruit  of  the  tree.  Both  represent  the  results  of  energy. 

There  is  unquestionably  a  difference  between  our  idea 
of  an  object,  say  a  lion,  when  we  stand  looking  at  it,  and 
when  we  shut  our  eyes  and  picture  it.  The  most  timid 
sane  woman  would  not  be  in  much  more  danger  of  mistak- 
ing the  memory  image  of  a  lion  for  the  perception  of  the 
actual  animal,  than  of  thinking  that  electricity  was  light. 
The  connection  between  the  image  of  perception  and  of 
memory  is  just  about  as  close  as  the  bond  between  elec- 
tricity and  light.  Quicken  the  light-producing  vibrations 
in  the  ether,  and  they  cause  electricity.  Intensify  the 
action  in  a  memory  cell,  and  the  resulting  idea  may  be 
confounded  with  a  perception.  It  is  of  course  conceivable 
that  the  "  lion  memory  cell "  might  be  thrown  into  such 
intense  action  as  to  cause  the  woman  to  think  that  she  saw 
an  actual  lion.  Analogous  cases  have  happened  ;  but  were 
they  the  rule  and  not  the  exception  with  any  person,  she 
would  be  considered  neither  normal  nor  sane.  We  may 
say  that  an  idea  from  direct  perception  of  an  object  differs 
from  the  represented  idea  of  memory  chiefly  in  intensity. 
If  a  memory  brain  cell  is  thrown  intp  sufficiently  intense 
action,  the  mental  product  may  be  mistaken  for  a  per- 
ception. 

The  phenomena  of  hypnotism  are  partially  due  to  the 
fact  that  brain  cells  are  thrown  into  such  intense  action  by 


REPRESENTATION.  I0g 

suggestions  of  the  operator,  that  the  subject  thinks  he  has 
actual  perceptions.  Many  persons  have  at  some  time  or 
other  thrown  so  much  energy  into  an  idea  of  performing  Tj^" 
a  certain  action,  that  they  have  actually  believed  that 
they  had  done  it.  A  man  of  unquestionable  integrity 
testified  that  he  locked  a  certain  door.  Two  equally 
upright  persons  took  their  oath  that  they  saw  him  leave ^ 
the  room  in  a  great  hurry  without  stopping  to  lock  the 
door.  He  had  thrown  such  energy  into  his  determination 
to  lock  the  door, — as  much  as  he  would  have  expended  in 
the  act,  —  that  when  he  came  to  think  the  matter  over, 
he  was  sure  he  could  remember  locking  the  door. 

There  are  few  who  cannot  recall  analogous  cases  in  their 
own  lives.     A  man  intends  to  wind  his  watch.     Some- 


find  that  the  watch  has  run  down.     We  purpose  to  put  a 


thing  interrupts,  and  in  the  morning  he  is  astonished  to  v  r  f)  _ 


certain  thing  back  in  its  place.     Something  else  claims  our  ""UA& 
attention,  and  we  are  surprised  to  find,  on  returning,  that  V^T 

the  thing  is  still  out  of  its  place.     Sometimes  we  insist 

f\\  i     » 
that  we  did  replace  the  article,  but  that  some  disorderly 

person  has  pulled  it  out  in  our  absence. 

Having  said  enough  in  this  section  to  guard  the  student   ' 
against  thinking  that  he  can,  in  every  case,  distinguish  .. 
between  an  image  of  memory  and  of  perception,  we  may-  »^  ^Uol.  J 
close  with  this  general  rule  :   The  presence  of  an  actual 
object  gives  great  vigor  to  a^brain  cell;   the  normal  in- 
ternal revival  gives  far  less-X^ 

/  s 

Powers  Involved  in  Remembering.  —  In  order  to  remem- 
ber anything,  the  mind  must  have  the  power  (i)  of 
retention,  (2)  of  reproduction,  (3)  of  recognition,  and  (4) 
of  referring  an  object  to  a  certain  more  or  less  definite 
place  and  time.  If  the  mind  could  not  retain  a  disposition 


HO  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

to  act  again  in  the  same  way  as  before,  or,  in  more  popular 
language,  if  the  mind  could  not  retain  an  idea,  knowledge 
would  be  lost  as  soon  as  the  object  ceased  to  be  before  the 
mind  ;  we  might  as  well  put  gold  coins  into  a  pocket  con- 
taining holes.  The  brain  cells,  of  course,  furnish  the  phe- 
nomena of  the  physical  side  of  retention. 

There  must  also  be  reproduction.  We  frequently  put 
things  away  in  a  garret  or  elsewhere,  spend  more  time 
hunting  for  them  than  they  are  worth,  then  finally  rush  out 
and  buy  a  new  article.  It  is  of  no  use  to  have  a  thing, 
unless  it  can  be  produced  when  we  want  it.  Hence  we 
see  that  retention  is  not  enough,  for  any  attic  may  retain 
things  so  well  that  we  cannot  find  them. 

But  even  retention  and  reproduction  are  not  sufficient. 
We  may  retain  an  idea  of  the  features  of  a  man  and 
reproduce  it,  but  if  we  do  not  recognize  it,  we  should  not 
be  able  to  identify  the  man  the  next  time  we  saw  him. 
We  must  first  be  able  to  recognize  him  as  a  man  that  we 
have  seen  before.  Recognition  is  knowing  that -we  have 
had  the  same  idea  before. 

The  spatial  and  the  temporal  elements  in  memory  are 
less  definite,  but  an  idea  always  has  some  relations  to  space 
and  time.  We  saw  a  certain  man  in  New  York  last  sum- 
mer, or  icicles  hanging  from  the  eaves  in  the  winter. 

Different  Kinds  of  Memory.  —  Many  persons  think 
that  memory  is  mainly  due  to  sight ;  but  we  have  as  many 
different  kinds  of  memory  as  we  have  senses.  To  sight, 
the  watermelon  is  a  long  greenish  body,  but  this  is  its 
least  important  quality.  Sight  alone  gives  the  poorest 
idea  of  the  watermelon.  We  approach  the  vine  where  the 
fruit  is  growing,  and,  in  order  to  decide  whether  it  is  ripe, 
we  tap  the  rind  and  judge  by  the  sound.  We  must 


\WX5U-- 

^r 


REPRESENTATION.  Ill 


remember  that  a  ripe  watermelon  has  a  certain  resonance. 
By  passing  our  hands  over  the  melon,  we  learn  that  it  has 
certain  touch  characteristics.  We  cut  it  open  and  learn 
the  qualities  of  taste  and  smell.  All  this  knowledge 
afforded  by  the  different  senses  must  enter  into  a  per- 
fected memory  image. 

The  physical  basis  for  these  different  memories  is  to  be 
found  in  different  brain  tracts.  Again,  our  memory  of  the 
written  word  "  watermelon  "  is  different  from  that  of  the 
spoken  word.  Our  memory  for  controlling  the  vocal  cords 
in  uttering  the  word  is  different  from  the  memory  for 
directing  the  fingers  in  writing  the  word.  Hence  we  see 
that  many  complex  processes  go  to  form  an  idea  of  a 
thing.  Napoleon  was  not  content  with  only  hearing  a 
name.  He  wrote  it  down,  and  having  satisfied  his  eye 
memory  as  well  as  his  ear  memory,  he  threw  the  paper 
away. 

ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS. 

The  Sequence  of  Ideas  Governed  by  Law.  —  Sometimes 
we  fancy  that  ideas  floating  through  our  minds  are  under 
the  control  of  no  law ;  but  the  truth  is  that  our  ideas 
appear  under  the  direction  of  a  law  as  inflexible  as  that 
which  controls  the  ocean  currents  or  the  rising  and  falling 
of  the  tides.  All  ideas  have  certain  definite  associations 
with  other  ideas  and  they  come  up  in  groups.  There  is 
always  an  association  between  our  ideas,  although  there 
are  cases  when  we  cannot  trace  it. 

The  writer  was  once  surprised,  in  a  distant  city,  to  find 
a  picture  of  the  Yale  campus  appear  in  his  mind.  He  was 
thinking  about  a  subject  which  had  no  conceivable  connec- 
tion with  that  campus.  The  mystery  was  solved  when 
he  realized  that  he  was  hearing  a  certain  tune  whistled, 


\ 


112  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

which  had  before  been  strongly  associated  with  the  college 
grounds. 

Even  in  cases  where  we  find  no  association  between  our 
ideas,  we  may  be  sure  that  it  exists.  Uneducated  people 
realize  this,  for,  when  a  person  makes  some  remark,  they 
wonder  how  he  came  to  think  of  that,  and  they  often 
rightly  conclude  that  such  a  thought  would  never  have 
occurred  to  him  unless  he  had  been  in  possession  of  some 
information  which  suggested  it.  An  idea,  then,  never 
appears  in  consciousness  unless  there  is  a  definite  reason 
why  this  idea  should  appear  in  preference  to  others. 

Since  the  labyrinthine  character  of  nerve  fibers  connect- 
ing different  brain  tracts  has  been  better  understood,  we 
feel  less  surprise  at  our  inability  to  retrace  in  conscious- 
ness the  associative  path  between  some  ideas.  We  know 
that  the  current  may  pass  so  easily  along  certain  fibers 
connecting  different  cells,  that  the  connection  will  not  be 
sufficiently  intrusive  to  rouse  consciousness.  Two  appar- 
ently disconnected  ideas  will  then  appear  in  the  mind. 

Necessity  for  a  Physical  Basis  of  Association.  —  Excite- 
ment of  the  auditory  nerves  goes  to  the  temporal  lobes ; 
of  the  optic  nerves,  to  the  occipital  lobes.  We  have  seen 
that  in  order  to  obtain  a  percept  of  a  peach,  we  must  weave 
together  the  sensations  given  by  the  various  senses.  Since 
these  report  to  various  parts  of  the  brain,  there  must  be 
connection  between  all,  or  they  could  not  be  fused  into  one 
idea.  These  connections  we  may  term  associative  fibers. 
A  peach  is  not  a  peach  until  we  have  associated  the  gusta- 
tory, visual,  tactile,  and  olfactory  sensations.  Our  knowl- 
edge of  a  bell  would  be  very  incomplete  were  the  sound 
not  associated  with  the  sight. 

Suppose  we  endeavor  to  recall  our  memories  of  a  water- 


REPRESENTATION.  113 

melon.  in  Figure  20,  let  V  stand  for  a  visual  sensa- 
tion in  the  brain ;  A,  for  an  auditory  sensation ;  M, 
for  the  muscular  sensation  in  uttering  the  word  "water- 
melon" ;  O,  for  the  sensation  of  odor;  t,  for  that  of  taste; 
T,  for  the  indefinitely  localized  sensation  of  touch.  These 
sensations  have  affected  different  parts  of  the  brain,  and 
they  must  be  associated  with  each  other  before  we  can 


FIG.  zo.V-^iagram  showing  different  brain  tracts  acted  on  by  the  various  sen- 
sory stimuli.\X 

V 

remember  a  watermelon  in  its  completeness.  The  factors 
thus  associated  are  the  visual  appearance,  the  resonance 
of  the  watermelon  when  we  snap  our  fingers  on  its  rind, 
the  muscular  sensations  in  calling  the  word,  the  odor  and 
the  taste,  and  the  sensation  from  touch.  Besides  these,  we 
may  have  a  temperature  memory  of  the  coolness  of  the 
melon,  a  muscular  memory  of  the  sensation  resulting  from 
lifting  the  fruit,  another  muscular  memory  of  the  sensa- 
tions involved  in  writing  the  word.  Nerve  fibers  more 
HALLECK'S  PSYC.  —  8 


114  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

complex  than  those  indicated  by  the  dotted  lines  in  the 
diagram  connect  the  different  parts  of  the  brain. 

The  physical  basis  of  cerebral  association  is,  therefore, 
to  be  found  in  the  cells  and  connective  fibers  of  the  brain. 


Primary  Law  of  Association. 

Contiguity  in  Consciousness.  —  Ideas  or  objects  that  have 
been  before  consciousness  at  the  same  time,  and  hence 
apperceived  in  the  same  mental  state,  tend  afterwards  to 
suggest  each  other. 

(1)  This  law  does  not  mean   that  the  objects  must  be 
contiguous    in   external   space   and   time.     They  may  be 
thousands  of  miles  distant  and  separated  by  an  interval  of 
many  years.     The  essential  thing  is  that  the  mind  grasps 
the  ideas  together.     If  Napoleon  and  Alexander  the  Great 
once  come  before  consciousness  at  the  same  time,  they 
will  afterwards  have  a  tendency  to  be  associated.     If  they 
are  never  a  part  of  the  same  mental  state,  that  is,  if  they 
never  come  into  the  mind  together,   they  can   never  be 
mentally  associated,  though  memories  of  both  may  exist. 

(2)  Contiguous  association  includes  both  coexistence  and 
succession.     The  ideas  may  not  only  be  in  the  mind  at  the 
same  time,  but  they  may  follow  each  other  to  almost  any 
extent,  as  is  shown  in  the  case  of  those  who  have  mem< 
orized  all  of  Milton's  Paradise  Lost,  complete  plays  ot 
Shakespeare,   or   the   successive   steps   in   a   geometrical 
demonstration.     It  does  not  matter  how  long  the  web  of 
knowledge  is,  provided  the  mental  loom  weaves  the  prod- 
uct firmly  together. 

When  ideas  are  in  the  mind  at  the  same  time,  like  a 
house  and  its  color,  the  visual  aspect  of  a  person  and  the 
sound  of  his  voice,  they  are  said  to  coexist.  When  ideas 


KEPRESENTATION.  1 1 5 

follow  each  other,  like  the  letters  of  the  alphabet  or  the 
words  in  a  poem,  they  furnish  examples  of  succession. 

(3)  No  similarity  can  ever  be  detected  between  any 
two  objects,  unless  they  are  before  the  mind  at  the  same 
time.     This  being  so,  the  law  of  contiguity  comes  before 
any  law  of  similarity.     If  we  have  an  image  of  only  one  hu- 
man countenance  before  the  mind  at  a  given  time,  we  can 
discover  no  resemblance  between  that  countenance  and 
nothing  at  all.     After  we  once  have  two  countenances  in 
contiguous  relations  before  consciousness,  we  may  then, 
and  only  then,  proceed  to  note  the  similarity,  which,  as 
will  be  shown  later,  furnishes  a  powerful  secondary  law  for 
close  association.     But  similarity  is  not  a  primary  princi- 
ple of  association,  because  ideas  must  first  be  examined 
in  contiguous    association    before   any   similarity   can  be 
noted.      When  we  come  to  consider  the  law  of  associa- 
tion   by  brain   contiguity,  this   statement  will   seem  still 
clearer. 

(4)  The  law  of   contiguity  itself    involves   relations. 
Contiguity  means  a  relation  in  time  and  space ;  and  to 
children,  as  well  as  to  many  older  people,  the  relation  of 
cause  and  effect.     The  effect  frequently  follows  the  cause 
in  quick  contiguous  association.     Lightning  and  thunder, 
a  blow  and  pain,  cold  and  ice,  spring  and  blossoms,  green 
apples  and  indigestion,  a  cut  from  a  knife  and  the  appear- 
ance of   blood,  are  firmly  linked  because  of   relations  of 
contiguity. 

(5)  The  law  of  contiguity  does  not  imply  that  we  pay 
equal  attention  to  all  objects  before  us  at  the  same  time. 
The  parts  of  a  landscape  are  all  connected,  but  we  link  to- 
gether certain  elements  that  interest  us,  and  neglect  others. 
The  human  mind  is  not  a  machine,  like  a  camera,  which 
must    photograph   impartially    everything    within    range 


Il6  PSYCHOLOGY  AND  PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

We  may,  in  the  landscape,  single  out  for  contiguous 
attention  the  line  of  graceful  willows,  the  winding  brook, 
the  white  house  and  the  hillside,  and  may  neglect  the 
other  elements.  The  mind,  while  working  under  the  law 
of  contiguity,  is,  at  the  same  time,  using  its  apperceptive 
power  and  singling  out  for  attention  interesting  objects 
which  can  be  assimilated  to  other  ideas.  If  several  objects 
are  contiguously  present  to  perception,  the  mind  will  al 
ways  quickly  dismiss  the  least  interesting,  those  which 
cannot  be  assimilated  or  apperceived  in  terms  of  present 
ideas.  To  repeat,  one  idea  cannot  be  assimilated  to 
another,  or  apperceived  in  terms  of  another,  unless 
both  ideas  are  contiguously  associated  in  consciousness. 
Suppose  we  are  looking  toward  three  objects,  —  a  panther, 
a  cat,  and  a  wooden  pail.  We  shall  very  probably  not  see 
the  pail ;  but  we  shall  not  apperceive  the  panther  as  a  big 
cat,  unless  the  mind  first  gets  ideas  of  both  animals  before 
it  at  the  same  time,  er,  in  other  words,  in  contiguous 
association.  No  resemblance  can  be  discovered  between 
the  panther  and  nothing  whatever. 

Illustrations  of  the  Law  of  Contiguity.  —  The  alphabet 
affords  the  simplest  illustration  of  this  law.  A  has  been 
associated  with  b,  and  b  with  c.  We  naturally  say  a,  b,  c; 
it  would  be  an  effort  to  say  a,  m,  h,  because  m  has  not 
been  associated  with  a,  nor  h  with  m.  We  rattle  off  all 
the  logically  disconnected  letters  of  the  alphabet  so  easily, 
because  they  have  been  before  the  mind  in  contiguous 
association.  In  this  way  we  associate  the  Fourth  of  July 
with  fireworks,  Thanksgiving  with  turkeys,  Christmas  with 
Santa  Claus.  If  we  were  memorizing  Gray's  Elegy,  we 
should  rely  on  this  law  to  recall  the  words  in  order, 

*  The  curfew  tolls  the  knell  ot  parting  day.'* 


REPRESENTATION.  1 1 7 

Here  "curfew"  succeeds  "the";  "tolls"  succeeds  "cur- 
few," etc.  We  learn  the  words  in  this  order,  and  hence 
when  we  start  the  line,  the  remaining  words  tend  to  fol- 
low. Were  it  not  for  this  law,  words  might  be  interposed 
from  a  poem  learned  at  some  other  time.  Thus,  we  might 
say,  "  The  curfew  tolls,  my  country,  'tis  of  thee,  once  upon 
a  midnight  dreary,  strike  till  the  last  armed  foe,  all  bless- 
ings flow."  As  the  case  is,  no  matter  if  we  know  the 
Elegy,  America,  The  Raven,  Bozzaris,  and  Doxology,  the 
law  of  contiguity  keeps  us  from  mingling  them.  There 
are  adults  who  dislike  jelly  because  it  was  associated  in 
their  youthful  days  with  medicine.  We  may  once  see  a 
person  in  questionable  company,  and  find  that  our  minds 
thereafter  associate  him  with  that  company.  The  law  of  ®* 
contiguity  is  as  far-reaching  and  as  diverse  in  its  ^per- 
ation  as  are  our  paths  through  life.v^*ftl^t tpuuUC 

X^O^(6\>*AA*'/*^~7 

Nj^  V    rft-^t  /         \ 

Law  of  Cerebral  Contiguity.  — Whenever  any  Hraln  cells 
have  had  connected  action,  the  action  of  any  one  tends 
to  set  the  others  in  action.  In  learning  the  alphabet,  a 
certain  part  of  the  brain  cortex  was  in  connected  action. 
When,  at  some  future  time,  the  cerebral  cell  in  which  a 
was  registered  vibrates  so  as  to  affect  consciousness,  those 
vibrations  or  excitations  tend  to  spread  and  to  set  in  action 
the  cells  where  b  and  c  are  registered. 

Two  similar  sensations  are  registered  in  a  contiguous 
brain  tract,  not  because  they  occur  at  the  same  time,  but 
because  they  are  similar.  We  have  already  seen  that 
sensations  of  hearing  modify  a  different  brain  tract  from 
sensations  of  sight.  It  is  further  probable  that  two 
exactly  similar  sight  sensations  would  excite  precisely  the 
same  ganglion  cells  in  the  occipital  lobes.  A  sensation 
would  excite  a  certain  brain  cell  in  preference  to  another. 


Il8  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

only  because  this  sensation  was  similar  to  a  former  one 
which  had  modified  that  same  cell.  The  same  brain  cells 

may  be  repositories  for  similar  qualities  of differenjt 

objects.  Whenever  a  quality  of  a  new  object  knocks  at 
the  door  of  a  brain  cell,  which  has  stored  up  a  modification 
corresponding  to  the  same  quality  in  a  related  object,  we 
may  expect  that  cell  to  bring  to  consciousness  a  memory  of 
the  former  object. 

When  a  man  sees  an  imposing  mass  of  thunder  clouds 
and  immediately  thinks  of  a  distant  mountain  range,  it  is 
probable  that  the  sensation  from  the  clouds  affects  the 
same  brain  cells  as  did  the  sensation  from  the  mountains. 
This  was  the  case  only  because  there  was  an  undoubted 
similarity  between  the  irregular  white  tops  of  the  clouds 
and  of  the  mountains.  When  the  clouds  were  seen,  the 
mountains  were  thought  of  only  because  the  similar  sensa- 
tions affected  the  same  brain  cells  or  contiguous  ones.  The 
almost  certain  truth  that  similar  sensations,  like  birds  of 
a  feather,  flock  together  in  the  brain,  may  some  day 
become  a  psychological  proverb. 

Sometimes  two  objects  dissimilar  in  every  respect  save 
one  are  associated,  because  the  similar  sensation  coming 
from  this  one  like  quality  is  sufficiently  strong  to  set  in 
action  the  entire  brain  cell  retaining  the  modification  from 
the  first  perceived  object.  We  have  already  commented 
on  this  in  considering  illusions.  The  photograph  of  a 
stranger  recalling  a  friend,  though  only  the  noses  are 
alike,  would  illustrate  this  tendency.  In  these  cases,  the 
objects  come  into  the  mind  before  it  has  noticed  their 
similarity.  Only  after  they  are  in  consciousness  together 
are  they  known  as  similar.  But  the  brain  brought  them 
up  together  because  their  effects  upon  it  were  similar  in 
some  respect.  These  sensations  are  unconscious  of  their 


REPRESENTATION. 

similarity  to  each  other.  The  relation  of  similarity  is  the 
product  of  a  conscious  mind  at  work  upon  ideas  already 
brought  to  it  by  contiguous  association. 

Reasons  for  Many  Obscure  Associations.  —  We  must 
not  expect  to  be  able  to  trace  out  a  conscious  connection 
between  all  our  ideas,  because  the  association  is  frequently 
the  result  of  complex  connecting  nerve  processes  which 
may  effect  the  connection  so  smoothly  as  not  to  arouse 
consciousness.  Ideas  that  follow  each  other  automatically 
illustrate  this  tendency.  Removing  the  waistcoat  at  nigh 
is  often  preceded  by  winding  the  watch,  although  there 
may  be  no  conscious  connection  between  the  ideas  lead- 
ing to  such  movements.  There  may  be  unconscious 
preparatory  action  in  the  brain  tract  tending  toward  a 
conscious  result,  and  nothing  but  this  result  may  appear 
in  consciousness.  We  may  thus  explain  those  dreams  in 
which  some  apparently  forgotten  memory  has  recurred, 
furnishing  the  desired  knowledge.  The  dream  set  in  action 
a  portion  of  the  brain.  The  excitement  spread  and  roused 
some  dormant  cell. 

Secondary  Laws  of  Association. 

Difference  between  Primary  and  Secondary  Laws.  —  A 
primary  law  states  the  general  rules  that  ideas  obey  in 
coming  to  the  mind.  All  ideas  are  associated  on  a  con- 
tiguous principle.  A  secondary  law  shows  why  one,  rather 
than  another,  of  contiguously  associated  ideas  comes  to 
the  mind  at  a  given  time.  Out  of  fifteen  ideas  associated 
by  contiguity,  why  does  the  seventh  now  come  to  the  mind 
m  preference  to  the  fourth  ?  To  account  for  this,  we  must 
find  some  reasons,  which  we  term  secondary  laws. 

These   are    more   interesting   than  the  primaiy  law  of 


120  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 

contiguity,  since  they  cause  variety  in  our  mental  life.  If 
our  memories  were  as  mechanical  as  the  movement  of  a 
belt  around  a  wheel,  they  would  always  come  and  go  in  the 
same  order.  If  we  chalk  the.  letters  B.  M.  P.  X.  on  the 
outside  of  a  band,  then  revolve  the  wheel,  we  may  be  sure 
that  .they  will  return  in  that  invariable  order.  The  mere 
statement  of  the  law  of  contiguity  would  lead  us  to  expect 
that  ideas  would  return  in  the  same  fixed  way,  that  they 
would  be  subject  to  as  little  variation  as  the  letters  on  the 
belt  or  the  tunes  of  an  organ  grinder. 

Principal  Secondary  Laws.  —  There  are  many  reasons 
why  one  of  a  number  of  ideas,  associated  with  a  cer- 
tain other  idea  by  contiguity,  should  come  to  the  mind 
rather  than  another.  The  most  important  reasons  are 
these : — 

I.  If  there  are  fifteen  ideas  associated  by  contiguity,  and 
if  a  likeness  has  been  discovered  between  the  fourth  and 
the  seventh,  they  will  be  the  most  apt,  other  things  being 
equal,  to  come  together  to  the  mind.     We  may  call  this 
the  law  of  correlation. 

II.  If  the  fourth  and  the  seventh  of  those  ideas  have 
been  often  repeated,  that  repetition  will  give  them  special 
vigor  to  fight  their  way  to  the  front  in  the  struggle  for 
conscious  representation  and  association.     This   may  be 
termed  the  law  of  repetition. 

III.  The  fourth  and  the  seventh  ideas  will  be  more  apt 
to  recur  together  if  their  relation  appeals  to  the  emotional 
side  of  our  nature,  —  if  they  are  more  interesting  because 
they  are   recent  and  vivid,  because  they  agree  with  our 
natural  preferences,  or  because  they  stand  in  a  pleasing 
or  displeasing   relation  to  other  interesting  ideas.     This 
may  be  called  the  law  of  ew&tional  preference. 


REPRESENTATION.  121 

IV.  If  the  attention  has  been  strongly  centered  by  an 
act  of  the  will  on  the  fourth  and  the  seventh  ideas,  they 
will  thereby  be  given  additional  vigor  in  the  struggle  for 
association.  This  is  the  law  of  voluntary  attention 

Law  of  Correlation.  —  Whenever  any  thought  relation  is 
discovered  between  some  of  our  ideas,  those  thus  related 
will  be  more  apt  to  suggest  each  other. 

Let  us  look  at  these  three  words  together:  annual, 
stone,  annus.  If  we  know  that  annus  is  the  Latin  for  year, 
and  discover  the  similarity  between  that  and  annual,  we 
should  in  the  future  be  much  more  likely  to  associate  the 
first  with  the  third  than  with  the  second,  although  all  would 
fall  under  the  law  of  contiguity,  having  been  in  the  mind 
together.  When  the  word  animal  is  mentioned,  the  word 
stone,  because  of  lack  of  similarity,  would  be  normally 
surpassed  by  the  word  annus  in  associational  competi- 
tion. 

If  Julius  Caesar  was  the  object  of  conversation,  Napoleon, 
Marlborough,  Cromwell,  and  Wellington  would  naturally 
come  to  mind  in  preference  to  many  another  great  man. 
War  and  generalship  would  furnish  a  logical  bond  for 
uniting  them,  no  matter  in  what  different  circumstances  of 
time  and  place  these  men  lived.  When  a  man,  with  a 
mind  that  has  been  trained  to  unite  things  by  their  rela- 
tions, sits  down  to  write  an  article  or  to  prepare  a  speech, 
illustrative  examples  from  all  sources  occur  to  him.  Those 
who  have  not  linked  things  together  by  the  law  of  correla- 
tion, wonder  how  he  can  think  of  so  many  pertinent  illus- 
trations. 

Some  have  insisted  that  a  law  of  contrast  is  necessary, 
because  things  seem  to  be  preferred  in  recall  on  account 
of  their  very  difference.  Such  a  law  is  unnecessary,  for 


122  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

such  objects  will  be  found  to  have  more  or  less  of  the  same 
quality,  and  this  is  sufficient  to  furnish  the  associating  link. 
A  dwarf  may  suggest  a  giant  by  this  so-called  law  of  con- 
trast ;  but  the  giant,  and  the  dwarf  really  differ  in  respect 
to  the  same  qualities,  height  and  size.  The  giant  is  taller 
and  larger  than  the  dwarf.  A  bad  man  may  suggest  a 
good  man,  because  they  differ  in  respect  to  the  quality 
of  goodness. 

One  of  the  great  beauties  of  a  trained  human  mind  is 
that  it  recalls  things  preferably  by  thought  relations,  and  it 
is  not  enslaved  by  the  accidents  of  time  and  place.  An 
ignorant  person  on  the  witness  stand  will  insist  on  telling 
everything,  no  matter  whether  it  bears  on  the  case  or 
not.  His  memory  is  almost  entirely  contiguous.  If,  be- 
tween two  given  events,  he  bought  a  barrel  of  flour  on 
trust  at  a  red  grocery,  one  of  his  childreL  was  teething, 
or  he  blew  his  nose,  he  must  relate  the  events  in  the  order 
in  which'  they  occurred.  Having  never  learned  to  think 
logically,  he  really  has  no  other  way  of  getting  from  the  one 
event  to  the  other,  except  by  using  everything  that  hap- 
pened as  a  stepping  stone  wherewith  to  cross  the  inter- 
vening stream.  Deny  to  him  the  right  of  using  a  certain 
stone,  and  he  stands  puzzled  in  mid-stream. 

Mrs.  Radcliffe,  in  The  Romance  of  the  Forest,  illustrates 
this  point  well.  One  of  her  characters  rushes  into  the 
room  with  very  important  news,  which  his  master  is  eager 
to  hear : — 

"O,  sir,  I've  heard  something  that  has  astonished  me,  as  well  it 
may,"  cried  Peter,  "and  so  it  will  you,  when  you  come  to  know  it.  As 
I  was  standing  in  the  blacksmith's  shop,  while  the  smith  was  driving  a 
nail  into  the  horse's  shoe ;  by  the  by,  the  horse  lost  it  in  an  odd  way. 
I'll  tell  you,  sir,  how  it  was." 

"Nay,  prithee,  leave  it  till  another  time,  and  go  on  with  your  story." 


REPRESENTATION.  1 2  3 

"  Why,  then,  sir,  as  I  was  standing  in  the  blacksmith's  shop,  comes 
in  a  man  with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  a  large  pouch  of  tobacco  in  his 
hand." 

"  Well  —  what  has  the  pipe  to  do  with  the  story  ?  " 

"  Nay,  sir,  you  put  me  out ;  I  can't  go  on,  unless  you  let  me  tell  it  in 
tny  own  way.  As  I  was  saying  —  with  a  pipe,"  etc. 

Law  of  Repetition. — Whenever  mental  acts  are  often 
repeated,  their  corresponding  brain  cells  are  made  stable 
and  vigorous,  by  the  same  law  that  gives  strength  to 
muscles  when  they  are  exercised.  An  arm  kept  in  a 
sling  becomes  weak  and  flabby.  The  same  is.  true  of 
brain  cells  that  are  not  given  their  proper  exercise.  A 
pair  of  strong  arms  can  far  surpass  weak  ones  in  elbowing 
their  way  through  a  crowd  ;  so  can  a  strong  brain  cell  more 
easily  affect  consciousness.  If,  out  of  a  hundred  ideas,  the 
thirty-fifth  has  been  repeated  more  often  than  the  others, 
the  brain  process  corresponding  to  it  will  knock  loudest  at 
the  door  of  consciousness.  If  we  hear  of  widespread  injury 
to  a  distant  city,  we  think  first  of  its  people  and  build- 
ings that  we  have  seen  most  often,  for  they  have  left  the 
deepest  mental  impress.  In  traveling  through  a  foreign 
country,  anything  related  to  our  oft  repeated  business 
attracts  our  attention  first. 

Law  of  Emotional  Preference.  —  By  a  law  of  the  emo- 
tions, we  are  in  the  majority  of  cases  more  interested 
in  something  that  has  recently  happened  than  in  distant 
events.  In  cases  where  this  is  true,  an  idea  due  to  recent 
experience  will  win  in  the  fight  with  an  idea  of  the  oppo- 
site kind.  If  Constantinople  is  suddenly  mentioned,  and 
if  I  have  been  recently  reading  about  its  numberless  dogs, 
my  association  of  ideas  would  be  more  apt  to  turn  in  their 
direction  than  toward  the  Sultan.  On  the  other  hand,  ii 


124  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

I  have  listened  to  'a  recent  talk  about  the  religion  of  that 
city,  I  should  probably  think  of  the  mosques  and  of  the 
muezzins'  call  to  prayer. 

Vividness  of  experience  is  a  potent  factor  in  recollection. 
What  is  extremely  vivid  necessarily  interests  us  more  than 
what  is  ordinary,  and  hence  comes  under  the  emotional 
law.  A  person  who  had  just  left  the  shelter  of  a  tree, 
when  it  was  torn  in  pieces  by  lightning,  says,  that  when- 
ever it  begins  to  thunder,  an  image  of  that  tree  comes 
distinctly  before  him.  There  have  been  thousands  of 
other  objects  associated  in  his  experience  with  thunder 
storms,  but  he  always  thinks  of  that  particular  experience 
because  of  its  vividness.  Certain  brain  cells  are  probably 
more  affected  by  one  such  experience  than  by  fifty  repeti- 
tions of  uninteresting  events.  The  experiences  of  child- 
hood often  throng  the  memory  of  old  age  because  they 
were  so  vivid.  They  deeply  affected  the  plastic  brain 
cells.  An  old  man  will  often  recall  events  of  fifty  years 
ago  more  easily'  than  those  of  the  day  before.  The  child 
is  also  far  more  interested  in  each  new  experience  than 
are  old  men,  for  it  constitutes  his  entire  world  for 
the  time  being,  and  he  is  constantly  expecting  new  dis- 
coveries. 

Interest  is  an  extremely  strong  factor  in  determining  the 
current  of  association.  If  a  broker,  merchant,  and  anti- 
quarian were  asked  to  write  down  the  idea  first  suggested 
by  the  word  stocks,  the  broker  would  be  apt  to  mention  some 
railroad  stocks  in  which  he  was  interested,  the  merchant 
would  think  of  purchases  for  his  fall  or  spring  trade,  and 
there  would  occur  to  the  antiquarian  some  historic  example 
of  the  use  of  stocks  for  punishing  criminals.  Whenever  a 
certain  man  thought  of  a  distant  state,  he  immediately 
wondered  whether  its  legislature  had  passed  a  bill  for  the 


REPRESENTATION  .  125 

extension  of  a  railroad  through  a  large  tract  of  land  owned 
by  him.  He  sold  the  land  and  soon  ceased  to  think  of  the 
doings  of  the  legislature.  If  the  state  is  now  mentioned, 
he  thinks  of  a  pleasant  summer  passed  with  a  friend  resid- 
ing there.  If  an  interesting  and  an  uninteresting  idea 
fight  for  the  privilege  of  appearing  in  consciousness,  the 
interesting  one  will  win.  More  scientifically  speaking,  if 
two  brain  processes  struggle  for  the  mastery,  the  one  accom- 
panied by  an  interesting  mental  state  will  win.  The  same 
law  governs  the  ideas  for  which  there  is  hereditary  pref- 
erence. Water  is  more  interesting  than  land  to  a  duck  at 
birth.  If  the  duck  dreams,  its  aquatic  experiences  will 
sway  the  dream  current  most  strongly.  Men  with  a  heredi- 
tary preference  for  art  certainly  think  and  dream  most 
often  of  objects  connected  with  art. 

TJie.  change  in  r>ur  pmnHnnal  states  has  much  to  do  with 
changing^  the  direction  of  our  associations.  An  idea,  A,  is 
often  followed  by  S  one  day  and  by  L  the  next.  Why,  as 
we  pass  a  certain  farm  on  Monday,  do  we  think  of  a  pear 
tree  behind  the  house,  while  on  Tuesday  the  association  of 
ideas  goes  straight  from  the  house  to  the  well  beyond  it  ? 
The  answer  shows  the  power  of  emotional  bias  to  sway 
the  current  of  association.  On  Monday  we  were  hungry, 
and  that  feeling  ushered  in  the  idea  of  the  pear  tree,  the 
moment  we  caught  sight  of  the  place.  The  next  day  we 
were  thirsty,  and  immediately  thought  of  the  well.  Ex- 
amples like  these  emphasize  the  truth  that  what  interests 
us  to-tfay  may  not  do  so  to-morrow. 


Law  of  Voluntary  Attention.  —  The  greater  the  mental 
energy  thrown  into  attending  to  anything,  the  better  fitted 
be  the  idea  of  that  thing  to  recur  to  consciousness  and 
give  new  direction  to  the  stream  of  association.      This 


126  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

truth  is  perhaps  nowhere  better  shown  than  in  reading 
literature.  It  is  possible  to  read  authors  like  Shakespeare, 
Milton,  Chaucer,  and  De  Quincey,  and  to  throw  so  little 
energy  into  the  reading,  that  but  very  few  ideas  from  them 
will  be  found  struggling  with  much  vigor  on  the  battle- 
field of  association.  In  order  to  win  in  this  struggle,  an 
idea  must  have  vigor.  Will  power  used  in  centering  the 
attention  can  give  vigor  to  any  idea,  even  though  it  is  unin- 
teresting. Such  a  one  is  more  than  a  master  for  a  whole 
regiment  of  ideas  that  are  products  of  weak  attention 
and  relaxed  will.  Those  ideas  that  recur  most  frequently 
are  the  ones  that  determine  what  our  lives  shall  be.  If 
trivial  ideas  hold  the  field  of  association  most  often,  our 
lives  will  be  insignificant.  If  by  an  act  of  will  power  we 
center  our  attention  upon  nobler  things,  vigorous  ideas 
will  arise  from  them,  and  our  lives  will  take  a  nobler  course. 
If,  in  one  sense,  we  are  slaves  of  association,  in  another, 
we  are  its  masters,  for  we  may  determine  upon  what  ideas 
we  shall  center  our  attention,  and  consequently  what  ideas 
shall  be  allowed  to  grow  strong. 

The  physical  study  of  attention  shows  that  it  causes 
more  blood  to  be  sent  to  any  parts  involved  in  attention, 
no  matter  whether  these  are  in  the  limbs,  trunk,  or  brain. 
Hence,  attention  to  any  special  thing  must  give  additional 
activity  to  those  cells  whose  function  it  is  to  be  modified 
by  sensations  from  that  thing.  With  slight  cause  they 
will  be  again  thrown  into  action  at  some  future  time,  and 
the  idea  of  the  thing  will  come  distinctly  into  memory. 
The  action  of  brain  cells  that  have  not  been  thus  modified 
may  be  too  weak  to  affect  consciousness,  and  hence  the 
stream  of  association  will  not  be  changed  by  them.  The 
centering  of  our  attention  here  or  there  has  much  to  do 
with  brain  modification. 


Dreams. 


Explanation  of  Dreams.  —  It  must  be  borne  in  mind 
that  dreams  are  to  be  explained_by  the  laws  of  association. 
The  current  of  ideas  in  a  dream  and  in  waking  hours  flows 
on  obedient  to  the  same  laws.  Hence,  we  are  not  required 
to  lay  down  a  single  new  principle.  If  a  person  gets  the 
covering  off  his  feet  on  a  cold  night,  he  may  dream  of 
walking  barefoot  on  ice ;  or  if  he  has  recently  been  reading 
of  polar  travels,  his  dream  may  take  him  through  strange 
experiences  in  those  regions.  When  the  covering  slipped 
off  a  bottle  of  hot  water  at  the  feet  of  a  sleeper,  he 
dreamed  that  he  was  walking  on  the  crater  of  Mt.  ^Etna. 
The  crust  was  so  hot  and  thin  that  it  threatened  to  break 
and  plunge  him  into  the  seething  mass  below.  Another 
man,  under  similar  circumstances,  dreamed  that  Italian 
brigands  were  holding  his  feet  in  the  fire  to  make  him 
disclose  his  treasure.  He  had  been  reading  of  such  an 
instance  a  short  time  before.  A  slumbering  fire  suddenly 
darted  into  a  bright  blaze,  and  caused  a  sleeper  to  dream 
that  the  gates  of  heaven  had  been  thrown  wide  open.  He 
seemed  to  enter,  and  his  dream  current  was  swayed  by  all 
the  celestial  pictures  that  had  ever  been  before  his  mind. 
The  Revelation  had  greatly  impressed  him  when  a  boy, 
hence  his  dream  naturally  took  this  direction.  Ko__ one 
ever  invents  entirely  new  ideas  in  a  dream...  Before  the 
discovery  of  America,  no  European  ever  dreamed  of  an 
Indian.  After  this,  slight  pains  in  the  head  often  started 
dreams  of  Indians  with  their  scalping  knives. 

A  chief  reason  why  dreams  are  so  fantastic  and  out  of 
all  keeping  with  the  actual  conditions  of  life  is  because 
the  association  of  ideas  has  no  guiding  purpose  and  is  like 
a  runawayhorse.  Riding  after  such  an  animal  is  different 


128  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

from  ordinary  riding;  for  the  horse,  unrestrained  by  the 
rein,  is  liable  to  go  almost  anywhere.  In  our  waking 
hours  we  generally  have  a  more  or  less  definite  purpose 
in  view,  and  we  keep  our  ideas  in  the  middle  of  the  road 
leading  to  our  destination.  If  other  ideas  force  themselves 
in  for  a  short  time,  we  generally  drive  them  away  and 
keep  on  in  the  straight  road  of  our  predetermined  business 
or  pleasure ;  or,  if  we  start  off  on  a  new  path,  we  follow 
that  straight  for  awhile.  In  dreams  there  is  no  concen- 
tration of  attention  upon  any  one  definite  line.  Ideas 
related  in  any  strange  fashion  may  come  trooping  in,  and 
any  one  of  these  may  call  up  any  other  fantastically  re- 
lated idea.  At  the  same  time  there  are  often  remarkable 
exhibitions  of  the  constructive  imagination  in  dreams. 
This  is  due  to  unconscious  cerebral  processes. 

Power  of  the  Association  of  Ideas. 

Ideas  are  Colored  by  Associated  Ideas.  —  An  eminent 
philosopher  has  said  that  man  is  completely  at  the  mercy 
of  the  association  of  his  ideas.  Every  new  object  is 
seen  in  the  light  of  its  associated  ideas.  A  man  was 
once  relating  a  very  amusing  story,  as  he  thought,  of  a 
fishing  party.  While  the  rest  of  the  company  were  laugh- 
ing, a  woman  suddenly  burst  into  tears.  The  idea  associ- 
ated in  her  mind  with  fishing  excursions  was  the  death  of 
her  son  by  drowning.  A  poet  was  one  day  admiring  the 
graceful  curves  of  the  waves  and  experiencing  a  soothing 
sensation  from  their  sound,  when  he  heard  a  fishwife  ex- 
claim, as  she  looked  at  a  white-capped  wave,  "  How  I 
hates  to  see  thee  show  thy  white  teeth."  To  her  the 
sea  was  a  monster  that  had  devoured  her  loved  ones. 

The  principle  of  the  association  of  ideas  is  sufficient  to 


REPRESENTATION.  1 2Q 

account  for  the  change  in  fashions.  A  woman  in  a  south- 
ern city  had  a  bonnet  that  she  particularly  admired,  until 
she  one  day  saw  three  negresses  wearing  precisely  the 
same  pattern.  She  never  appeared  again  in  that  bonnet. 
When  a  style  of  dress  becomes  "  common,"  and  is  worn  by 
the  lower  classes,  it  is  discarded  by  the  fashionable  people. 
/Tashions  that  are  absolutely  repulsive  will  often  be  adopted 
\if  they  are  introduced  by  popular  or  noted  people.  From 
his  excesses,  Henry  VIII.  became  a  bloated  figure  in  the 
latter  part  of  his  life,  and  the  aristocracy  stuffed  their 
clothing  to  imitate  his  size.  Queen  Elizabeth  had  auburn 
hair,  and  the  ladies  of  fashion  sought  for  a  dye  that  would 
turn  their  hair  to  the  aristocratic  shade. 

A  knowledge  of  the  power  of  the  association  of  ideas  is 
of  the  utmost  importance  in  business.  One  man  has  his 
store  so  planned  that  all  its  associations  are  pleasing,  from 
the  manners  of  the  clerks  to  the  fixtures  and  drapery. 
Another  store  brings  up  unpleasant  associations.  A 
business  man  was  about  to  employ  a  young  man  for  an 
important  position,  when  one  day  the  elder  chanced  to 
catch  sight  of  him  in  questionable  company.  .  The  law  of 
contiguity  henceforth  brought  up  this  company  whenever 
the  young  man  was  thought  of,  and  he  failed  to  secure  the 
position. 

When  negligee  hats  first  made  their  appearance,  a 
shrewd  hatter  sent  for  a  very  popular  and  well-dressed  col- 
legian and  offered  him  his  choice  of  the  best  hats  in  the 
store,  if  he  would  wear  a  negligee  hat  for  three  days.  He 
objected  to  making  such  an  exhibition  of  himself,  until  he 
was  flattered  by  the  hatter's  wager  that  the  hats 'could, 
in  this  way,  be  made  the  fashion  for  the  entire  town. 
When  the  collegian  first  put  in  his  appearance  on  the 
campus  with  the  hat,  he  was  guyed  for  its  oddity.  Late  in 
HALLECK'S  PSYC.  —  a 


130  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

the  afternoon,  some  of  his  friends  concluded  that  the  hat 
looked  so  well  that  they  would  invest.  On  the  following 
day  large  numbers  reached  the  same  conclusion.  For 
some  time  after  this  the  hatter  found  difficulty  in  keeping 
a  sufficient  supply  in  stock.  Had  an  unpopular  or  poorly 
dressed  man  appeared  first  on  the  campus  with  that  hat, 
the  result  would  have  been  the  reverse.  The  hat  would 
have  been  the  same,  but  the  association  of  ideas  would 
have  differed. 

Some  of  the  ladies  of  fashion  in  a  large  European  city 
selected  on  their  own  responsibility,  without  consulting 
the   milliners,   a   cheap   spring    Manilla   hat,    which    wasi-"  , ' 
very  handsome.     The  milliners  found  themselves  with  a^ 
high-priced  stock  for  which  there  was  no  demand.     They 
held  a  council,  bought  a  large  number  of  the  cheap  hats, 
and  put  them  on  the  heads  of  all  the  female  street  sweepers 

and  scavengers  in  the  town.     When  the  ladies  of  fashion 

went  out  the  next  day,  they  were  amazed  to  see  the  veiylngyjj 
dregs  of  the  city  arrayed  in  head  gear  like  their  own.     It 
was  not  long  before  the  result  was  what  might  have  been 
expected. 

Few  people  stop  to  think  how  powerful  with  every  one 
is  the  association  of  ideas.  Few  would  have  any  ob- 
jection to  dancing  merrily  on  a  plain  rosewood  board. 
Let  that  same  board  be  cut  up  and  put  together  in  the 
form  of  a  coffin,  and  no  one  with  memories  of  a  dead 
friend  or  relative  would  manifest  merriment  in  its  pres- 
ence. The  same  rosewood  board  would  be  there,  but  not 
the  same  association  of  ideas.  While  visiting  the  New 
Orleans  Exposition,  a  woman  asked  a  friend  to  call  her 
attention  to  any  embroidery  that  he  saw.  His  attention 
happened  to  be  drawn  to  a  white  casket  in  the  undertakers' 
exhibit.  On  the  lid  of  this  casket  were  some  of  the  most 


REPRESENTATION.  1 3 1 

exquisitely  embroidered  flowers.  Knowing  her  fondness 
for  them,  he  called  her.  She  came  eagerly  ;  but  when  she 
saw  them  on  the  lid  of  a  coffin,  she  fairly  ran  away. 

It  is  not  the  business  of  the  psychologist  to  state  what 
power  the  association  of  ideas  ought  to  have.  It  is  for 
him  to  ascertain  what  power  it  does  have.  When  we 
think  of  the  bigotry  of  past  ages,  of  the  stake  for  the 
martyr  and  the  stoning  of  witches,  we  can  realize  the 
force  of  Professor  Ziehen's  statement :/"  We  cannot  think; 
as  we  will,  but  we  must  think  as  just  those  associations) 
which  happen  to  be  present  prescribe?)'  While  this  is 
not  literally  true,  it  may  serve  to  emphasize  a  deflecting 
factor  which  is  usually  underestimated. 


VA>«LM    OUAX.,  ~ru    VJULXI 

c 

i 


i 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  MEMORY 

Physiological  Side.  —  We  have  learned  that  when  a  cer- 
tain part  of  the  brain  is  diseased  or  destroyed,  our  memory 
for  a  certain  class  of  sensations  is  affected.  We  know 
that  memory  involves  a  physical  change  in  the  brain. 
For  lasting  memory,  perception  must  cause  a  permanent 
change  in  the  brain  cells.  Since  physiological  psychology 
has  demonstrated  this,  it  has  been  possible  to  proceed  more 
intelligently  in  cultivating  the  memory. 

Beyond  question,  some  men  have  at  birth  marvelously 
impressible  brains.  That  men  should  differ  in  brain 
power  is  no  stranger  than  that  they  should  differ  in 
muscular  power.  Without  training,  John  L.  Sullivan  could 
have  overpowered  several  ordinary  men  at  one  time.  He 
was  naturally  endowed  with  unusually  strong  muscles. 

We  may  grant  all  these  physiological  facts  and  native 
differences,  and  yet  insist  on  the  great  importance  of 
memory  culture.  If  the  muscles  of  an  arm  are  naturally 
weak  and  flabby,  there  is  all  the  more  reason  for  exercising 
it.  Even  a  Sullivan  improves  his  strong  arms  by  exercise. 
Had  he  kept  one  in  a  sling,  that  arm  would  soon  have 
become  weak.  To  keep  either  muscle  or  brain  tissue  from 
becoming  weak,  we  must  obey  certain  laws. 

An  eminent  physiological  psychologist  says  of  the  memo- 
ries common  to  most  of  us :  "  During  the  first  five  minutes 

132 


THE  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  MEMORY-  133 

after  their  deposition,  the  images  of  memory  lose  very  little 
or  nothing  at  all  of  their  intensity  and  distinctness.  Then 
the  slow  process  of  material  change  begins,  gradually 
effacing  the  material  dispositions.  To  express  it  in  the 
language  of  psychology,  the  images  of  memory  gradually 
lose  their  intensity  and  distinctness.  The  more  seldom 
they  are  reproduced,  the  more  rapidly  does  this  change 
progress  "  (i).  "  If  we  often  see  a  certain  man,  the  latent 
material  trace  of  this  complex  of  sensations  is  more  deeply 
imprinted  on  the  elements  of  the  cerebral  cortex  than 
when  we  see  him  but  rarely.  We  can  recall  the  idea  of 
this  man  more  easily  and  more  vividly,  if  we  have  seen 
him  often.  .  .  .  We  must  regard  this  material  trace, 
which  we  designated  conditionally  as  a  latent  image  of 
memory,  to  be  in  reality  a  definite  spatial  arrangement 
and  a  definite  constitution  of  the  molecules.  Originally, 
this  arrangement  is  very  unstable ;  not  until  after  the 
same  sensation  has  been  very  frequently  experienced 
does  the  molecular  arrangement  which  it  creates  and 
leaves  become  stable.  Only  after  the  ganglion  cell  has 
acquired  in  this  manner  a  very  definite  and  fixed  dispo- 
sition of  its  molecules  can  a  vivid  idea  be  awafcened  from 
this  disposition  by  association.  At  the  same  time  the  idea 
is  more  easily  awakened  by  association,  the  more  fixed  the 
arrangement  of  molecules.  .  .  .  Finally,  we  can  draw 
one  more  simple  conclusion  with  reference  to  the  latent 
images  of  memory.  If  these  are  in  fact  only  material 
dispositions,  the  material  change  in  the  ganglion  cell  will 
not  be  without  influence  upon  this  molecular  disposition. 
In  other  words,  if  new  and  more  or  less  similar  sensations 
do  not  again  renew  this  disposition,  in  the  course  of  time 
it  will  imperceptibly  lose  its  stability  and  be  finally 
obliterated.  The  simplest  introspection  agrees  with  this 


'34 

statement.  This  loosening  and  final  destruction  of  the 
latent  mental  images  is  nothing  more  than  what  we  call 
forgetfulness  ;  we  forget  ideas  that  are  not  constantly  and 
repeatedly  reexcited  by  similar  or  like  sensations  "  (2). 

On  the  physical  side,  it  must  be  said  that  whatever 
affects  the  general  health  will  affect  the  memory.  Indi- 
gestion, headache,  weariness,  bad  air, — all  affect  the  brain. 
A  man  with  a  naturally  fine  memory  was  taken  sick,  and, 
on  recovering,  he  suffered  for  nearly  a  year  from  feeble 
heart  action.  A  sufficient  quantity  of  pure  blood  did  not 
reach  his  brain.  During  this  time  he  often  complained 
that  he  could  remember  scarcely  anything.  When  the 
heart  action  again  became  normal,  his  memory  regained 
its  former  vigor.  The  first  rule  for  securing  a  better 
memory  is  to  pay  attention  to  the  laws  of  hygiene,  to 
endeavor  by  all  means  to  keep  the  health  at  high-water 
mark. 

The  Formation  of  a  Clear-cut  Image.  —  Haziness  of 
perteptioa-Jies  -at  the  root  of  many  a  bad  memory.  If 
perception  is  definite,  the  first  step  has  been  taken  toward 
insuring  a  good  memory.  If  the  fir^t  imprftpf"""  -Js-Kuad, 
its  effect  upon  the  brain  cells  is  more  lasting.  All  persons 
ought  to  practice  their  visualizing  power.  This  will  react 
on  perception  and  make  it  more  definite.  Visualizing  will 
also  form  a  brain  habit  of  remembering  things  pictorially, 
and  hence  more  exactly. 

Sir  Francis  Galton  states  that  while  visualizing  is  a 
faculty  hereditary  with  some  people,  it  is  yet  capable  of 
being  acquired.  He  instances  the  case  of  a  noted  French 
teacher,  who  trained  his  pupils  so  that  after  three  or  four 
months'  practice,  the  students  "  had  no  difficulty  in  sum- 
moning images  at  will,  in  holding  them  steady,  and  in 


THE  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  MEMORY.  135 

drawing  them."  Every  walk  affords  materials  for  training 
this  faculty.  Let  any  one  see  if  he  can  vividly  image 
some  fine-looking  house,  tree,  flower,  or  landscape.  In 
studying  botany,  it  is  not  rare  for  a  pupil  to  be  able  to 
recall  the  image  of  an  absent  flower,  with  all  peculiarities 
of  shape  and  attachment  of  petals,  and  to  point  out 
the  exact  difference  between  it  and  a  present  flower. 
Persons  who  can  visualize  in  this  way  are  at  a  great 
advantage,  when  some  deceitful  tradesman  tries  to  make 
them  think  that  a  certain  article  is  the  same  as  one  they 
have  bought  before,  or  even  superior  to  it.  They  merely 
summon  the  image  and  compare  it  with  the'  present  article. 
From  his  extensive  study  of  this  faculty,  Sir  Francis 
Galton  is  entitled  to  speak  with  unusual  authority.  He 
says:  "The  free  action  of  a  vivid  visualizing  faculty  is 
of  much  importance  in  connection  with  the  higher  proc- 
esses of  generalized  thought.  ...  A  visual  image  is  the 
most  perfect  form  of  mental  representation  wherever  the 
shape,  position,  and  relations  of  objects  in  space  are  con- 
cerned. .  .  .  The  best  workmen  are  those  who  visualize 
the  whole  of  what  they  propose  to  do  before  they  take  a 
tool  in  their  hands.  .  .  .  Strategists,  artists  of  all  denomi- 
nations, physicists  who  contrive  new  experiments,  and,  in 
short,  all  who  do  not  follow  routine,  have  need  of  it.  The 
pleasure  its  use  can  afford  is  immense.  I  have  many  cor- 
respondents who  say  that  the  delight  of  recalling  beautiful 
scenery  and  great  works  of  art  is  the  highest  that  they 
know ;  they  carry  whole  picture  galleries  in  their  minds. 
Our  bookish  and  wordy  education  tends  to  repress  this 
valuable  gift  of  nature.  A  faculty  that  is  of  importance 
in  all  technical  and  artistic  occupations,  that  gives  accu- 
racy to  our  perceptions,  and  justice  to  our  generalizations, 
is  starved  by  lazy  disuse,  instead  of  being  cultivated  judl 


136  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

ciously  in  such  a  way  as  will,  on  the  whole,  bring  the  best 
return.  I  believe  that  a  serious  study  of  the  best  means 
of  developing  and  utilizing  this  faculty,  without  prejudice 
to  the  practice  of  abstract  thought  in  symbols,  is  one  of 
the  many  pressing  desiderata  in  the  yet  unformed  science 
of  education  "  (3). 

APPLICATION  OF  THE  PRIMARY  LAW  OF  ASSOCIATION 
IN  THE  CULTIVATION  OF  MEMORY. 

Law  of  Contiguity. — The  facility  with  which  we  remem- 
ber things  will  depend  largely  upon  the  way  in  which  we 
associate  them.  An  intelligent  use  of  the  law  of  contiguity 
will  aid  the  memory.  Suppose  we  were  to  wish  to  remember 
when  Sophocles,  Plato,  Alexander  the  Great,  Socrates,  Aris- 
totle, Philip  of  Macedon,  Euripides,  Demosthenes,  and 
Herodotus  lived.  If  we  tried  to  remember  them  as  so 
many  isolated  individuals,  we  should  have  hard  work.  It  is 
unnecessary  for  us  to  select  more  than  one  date  to  be  learned 
outright,  — 470  B.C.,  the  birth  of  Socrates.  He  was  the  in- 
structor of  Plato ;  Plato,  of  Aristotle ;  Aristotle,  of  Alexander 
the  Great.  Philip  of  Macedon  was  the  father  of  Alexander. 
Against  Philip,  Demosthenes  delivered  his  noted  orations, 
called  Philippics.  Between  500  and  470  B.C.  were  born 
Sophocles,  Euripides,  Herodotus,  and  Thucydides,  hence  all 
were  contemporaries  of  Socrates.  The  birth  of  Euripides 
and  the  battles  of  Thermopylae  and  Salamis  occurred  in  the 
same  year,  480  B.C.,  while  the  battle  of  Plataea  was  fought 
the  year  after. 

By  ingenious  use  of  the  law  of  contiguity  we  string 
these  men  and  events  together  like  beads.  A  pull  on  the 
string  brings  them  all  into  view.  Were  they  learned  as 
isolated  facts,  there  would  be  no  associative  power  to  aid 


THE  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  MEMORY.  137 

recall.  The  law  would  be  ready  enough  to  help  us,  but 
we  would  not  invoke  its  aid. 

A  student  of  English  history  can  make  the  date  1666 
bring  up  a  large  number  of  facts.  The  great  fire  which 
destroyed  the  larger  part  of  London  occurred  in  this  year. 
This  fire  was  the  cause  of  the  formation  of  the  first  fire 
insurance  company  in  London.  In  that  year  tea  was  first 
brought  from  China  into  England.  The  year  1666  saw  the 
following  famous  persons  living,  —  we  notice  that  six  of 
them  are  named  John  :  John  Milton,  John  Bunyan,  John 
Dryden,  John  Locke,  John  Evelyn,  John  Churchill,  Samuel 
Butler,  Samuel  Pepys,  Samuel  Richardson,  Sir  Thomas 
Browne,  Thomas  Hobbes,  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  Robert  Her- 
rick,  Richard  Baxter,  Jeremy  Taylor,  William  Wycherly, 
William  Temple,  William  Penn,  Daniel  Defoe,  Izaak  Wal- 
ton, and  Robert  Boyle,  the  father  of  chemistry. 

The  year  before,  that  is,  1665,  saw  the  Great  Plague, 
when  London  was  so  depopulated  that  grass  grew  in  its 
streets.  In  this  year  Milton  finished  his  Paradise  Lost. 
The  year  before,  in  1664,  New  Amsterdam  was  taken  by 
the  Duke  of  York,  from  whom  it  was  called  New  York. 

The  best  way  to  study  history  or  literature  is  to  select 
some  noted  man  or  epoch  and  group  as  much  as  possible 
around  this  central  idea.  For  example,  take  the  Eliza- 
bethan period  and  group  around  it  the  men  and  events 
of  note  of  that  period,  not  only  in  England  but  also  in 
Europe.  Ideas  thus  grouped  will  often  come  in  a  proces- 
sion before  the  mind,  and  hence  they  will  be  kept  fresh  by 
reviewing.  John  Stuart  Blackie  gives  this  wise  advice : 
"  Read  as  much  as  possible  systematically  and  chrono- 
logically. Without  order  things  will  not  hang  together  in 
the  mind,  and  the  most  natural  and  instructive  order  is  the 
order  of  genesis  and  growth." 


u 
138  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTU 


ULTURE. 
U>Xk  TJM. 


USE  OF  THE  SECONDARY  LAWS  OF  ASSOCIATION  IN 
THE  CULTIVATION  OF  MEMORY. 

Law  of  Correlation.  —  Whenever  we  can  discover  any 
relation  between  facts,  it  is  far  easier  to  remember  them. 
The  intelligent  law  of  memory  may  be  summed  up  in 
these  words  :  .Endeavor  to  link  by  some  thought  relation 
each  new  mental  acquisition  to  an  old  one.  Bind  new 
facts  to  other  facts  by.  relations  of  similarity,  cause  and 
effect,  whole  and  part,  or  by  any  logical  relation,  and  we 
shall  find  that  when  an  idea  occurs  to  us,  a  host  of  related 
ideas  will  immediately  flow  into  the  mind.  If  we  wish 
to  prepare  a  speech  or  write  an  article  on  any  subject, 
pertinent  illustrations  will  suggest  themselves.  The  person 
whose  memory  is  merely  contiguous  will  wonder  how  we 
think  of  them. 

Almost  any  study,  if  approached  in  the  right  way,  will 
afford  material  for  cultivating  the  correlative  memory.  In 
all  history  we  shall  find  constantly  recurring  elements. 
There  is  so  much  similarity  that  the  more  we  read  and 
compare  the  histories  of  various  nations,  the  fewer  abso- 
lutely new  things  do  we  find  with  which  we  must  burden 
our  memories. 

No  matter  what  subject  we  are  studying,  it  will  be  well 
to  bear  in  mind  Professor  Blackie's  advice  :  "  Nothing 
helps  the  mind  so  much  as  order  and  classification. 
Classes  are  always  few,  individuals  many  ;  to  know  the 
class  well  is  to  know  what  is  most  essential  in  the  char- 
acter of  the  individual,  and  what  burdens  the  memory  least 
to  retain." 

Though  the  brain  is  in  its  most  pl^Hr  state  hpfnr^ 
the  age  of  .fifteen,  and  in  that  state  the  brain  certainly 
can  most  quickly  and  most  easily  amass  a  vast  number  of 


THE  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  MEMORY.  139 

isolated  facts,  yet,  if  we  know  English  and  Latin,  we  can 
at  the  age  of  twenty  learn  French  more  easily  than  we 
could  learn  it  as  our  first  new  language  at  twelve.  The 
reason  for  this  is  that  our  correlative  memories  improve 
with  age.  In  learning  a  new  language,  there  are  so  many 
points  of  likeness  to  the  old,  that  each  succeeding  new 
language  becomes  easier  and  easier  because  there  are  so 
few  really  new  roots  in  it  to  be  learned  outright.  By 
way  of  illustration,  from  the  English  night  and  the  Latin 
noctis,  may  easily  be  remembered  the  Greek  nuktos,  the 
Sanskrit  Nakta,  the  German  Nac/it,.ihe  Anglo-Saxon  niht, 
and  the  French  nuit. 

The  mere  act  of  comparing  one  thing  with  others  serves 
to  concentrate  attention  upon  it,  and  thus  to  secure  defi- 
nite cerebral  effects.  The  nearest -approach  to  a  royal  road 
to  memory  is  by  comparison-  But  a  difficulty  frequently 
presents  itself  in  correlative  association  because  there  may 
be  no  apparent  likeness  between  two  objects.  If  we  take 
a  list  of  objects  among  which  we  can  easily  discern  a 
relation,  it  will  cause  us  little  trouble  to  remember  them 
in  order.  With  one  careful  reading  we  can  recall  in  orderv 
vapor,  clouds,  rain,  spring,  brook,  lake,  river,  ocean,  waves, 
icebergs,  ships,  sailors,  rigging,  sails,  wind,  rocks,  wrecks, 
lifeboats,  life-saving  stations.  We  must  be  careful  to  \ 
detain  vapor  and  clouds  in  the  mind  for  a  moment  and  \  j 
notice  the  relation  between  them  ;  then  we  must  compare 
clouds  and  rain ;  then,  rain  and  spring,  taking  care  to  have 
only  two  objects  in  the  mind  at  one  time,  and  only  those 
two  which  are  to  be  immediately  associated.  If  we  have 
the  first  and  the  third  in  the  mind  together,  the  first  will 
have  a  tendency  to  suggest  the  third  and  not  the  second. 

Unfortunately  all  objects  are  not  so  easily  associated.     J 
There  are  many  between  which  the  slightest  relation  doe^ 


I4O  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

not  appear  at  first  sight ;  but  we  must  remember  that 
everything  in  this  world  is  either  directly  associated  with 
other  things,  or  it  is  related  to  a  third  object  which  in  turn 
is  related  to  these  other  things.  It  may  be  hard  work  to 
associate  spike  directly  with  pirate,  but  we  can  easily  asso- 
ciate a  spike  with  the  planks  of  a  ship  and  the  ship  with  a 
pirate.  The  principle  by  which  we  associate  things  will 
differ  according  to  our  education  and  experience.  Some 
would  supply  the  associating  links  in  this  way :  spike 
(steel,  metal,  gold,  thief)  pirate.  A  chemist  might  say 
spike  (iron  filings,  ink,  black  flag)  pirate;  a  clergyman, 
spike  (crucifixion,  pieces  of  silver,  ill-gotten  gains)  pirate. 
If  we  were  asked  to  associate  eagle  with  shoe,  we  might 
think  of  aerial  locomotion,  then  of  terrestrial  locomotion, 
then  of  shoe ;  or,  eagle  (wing,  foot)  shoe.  If  a  person  had 
read  how  an  eagle  attacked  a  young  calf,  he  would  say: 
eagle  (calf,  calfskin)  shoe.  A  classical  scholar  might  make 
this  combination  :  eagle  (Mercury's  winged  sandals,  foot) 
shoe. 

Suppose  we  were  required  to  retain,  in  order,  the  fol- 
lowing ideas :  barrel,  moon,  horse,  gold,  ocean,  star,  water- 
melon, humming  bird,  trunk,  salt,  pig,  mausoleum,  coal, 
balloon,  ice,  picnic,  Mr.  Gladstone,  Iceland,  lamp,  tooth, 
Paradise  Lost.  The  skeleton  outline  of  a  speech,  suggest- 
ing the  different  heads  and  illustrations,  is  frequently  as 
difficult  to  remember  as  these.  Unless  an  associative  prin- 
ciple is  found,  one  object  will  not  be  apt  to  suggest  another. 
We  shall  now  proceed  to  give  one  of  the  many  ways  by 
which  the  above-mentioned  list  of  objects  may  be  com- 
bined, putting  in  parentheses  the  objects  used  solely  for 
connecting  links :  — 

Barrel,  (circular  head)  moon,  (moonlight  rides)  horse, 
(power)  gold,  (precious  objects,  pearl  oysters)  ocean,  (the 


THE  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  MEMORY.  141 

Compass  of  Phoenician  sailors)  star,  (night,  thief)  water- 
melon, (sweet  fruit,  honey)  humming  bird,  (swiftly  moving 
object,  express  train)  trunk,  (journey,  Dead  Sea)  salt,  (salted 
meat)  pig,  (slaughter  house,  death)  mausoleum,  (funeral,  cre- 
mation) coal,  (gas)  balloon,  (altitude)  ice,  (ice  cream)  picnic, 
(grove,  felling  trees)  Mr.  Gladstone,  (England,  island)  Ice- 
land, (long  nights)  lamp,  (oil,  fat  meat)  tooth,  (toothache, 
pain)  Paradise  Lost. 

In  order  to  have  facts  adhere  firmly  in  the  mind,  they 
must  be  thought  over,  and  their  relations  to  knowledge 
already  acquired  must  be  understood.  All  this  takes  tirne  ; 
hence  the  majority  will  never  have  the  patience  to  cultivate 
their  memories.  No  memory  scheme  that  claims  to  pro 
duce  startling  results  in  a  few  lessons  is  of  much  value. 
Any  one  might  as  well  claim  to  make,  in  a  few  days,  an 
athlete  out  of  a  weak  person.  It  takes  time  to  train  the 
muscular  system  to  its  highest  development ;  and  then  it 
requires  constant  training  to  keep  the  muscles  strong. 
Keep  .an  arm  in  a  sling  for  a  month,  and  the  arm  will  be 
weak.  Neglect  the  proper  training  and  use  of  the  memory 
for  some  time,  and  the  memory  will  become  less  vigorous. 
(Constant  work  is  the  price  of  success  in  anything?) 

Since  time  is  required  to  note  what  points  of  attachment 
a  new  fact  has  to  an  old,  we  can  understand  why  it  does 
little  good  to  rush  over  a  subject  in  a  short  time  in  pre- 
paring for  an  examination,  or  to  see  how  quickly  one  can 
get  over  a  book.  The  results  for  a  few  hours  may  seem 
brilliant,  but  the  mind  has  not  had  time  to  classify  the 
new  facts  or  to  note  in  what  relation  they  stand  to  knowl- 
edge already  acquired.  Jnrelated  facts,  unless  frequently 
reviewed,  will  soon  be  forgotten,  and  all  the  time  spent  in 
acquiring  them  wiil  prove  wasted.  An  eminent  English 
lawyer  said  that  the  associates  of  his  youth  frequently  read 


142  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

as  much  law  in  a  day  as  he  in  a  week,  but  at  the  end  of 
twelve  months  his  knowledge  was  as  fresh  as  at  first,  while 
theirs  had  been  forgotten.  He  took  the  time  to  weave  his 
knowledge  together  into  a  finished  fabric. 

Unrelated  Facts.  —  While  we  recognize  the  truth  that  the 
majority  of  facts  can  be  united  by  thought  relations,  we 
must  remember  that  life  also  requires  us  to  learn  many 
arbitrary  symbols.  The  statement  that  the  only  improve- 
ment in  memory  consists  in  an  improvement  in  thinking  is 
perhaps  more  than  three  quarters  true.  But  the  statement 
does  not  convey  the  whole  truth,  and  is  for  that  very 
reason  misleading.  There  are  many  things  that  have  to  be 
learned  outright.  No  amount  of  reasoning  will  give  1066 
as  the  date  of  the  Norman  Conquest,  or  1455  to  1485  as 
the  duration  of  the  Wars  of  the  Roses. 

It  is  unfortunate  that  so  much  of  our  lives  has  to  be 
spent  in  learning  arbitrary  symbols ;  but  such  is  the  fact. 
Language,  as  we  actually  learn  it,  is  largely  arbitrary.  No 
person  can  give  a  valid  reason  why  the  term  "  oak  "  should 
not  have  been  applicable  to  a  hickory  tree,  or  "  larch  "  to  a 
pine  tree,  or  why  the  rose  should  not  have  been  called  by 
some  other  name.  The  student  of  physiological  psychol- 
ogy learns  that  the  motor  center  for  speech  is  in  the  third 
frontal  convolution,  while  the  sensory  center  lies  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Sylvian  fissure  in  the  upper  temporo- 
sphenoidal  convolution,  and  the  sight  center  is  in  the 
occipital  lobes,  although  he  cannot  understand  why  these 
localizations  should  not  have  been  different.  The  anato- 
mist has  to  remember  outright  the  attachment  of  hun- 
dreds of  muscles,  and  the  fanciful  names  given  many  of 
the  bodily  organs.  In  short,  in  everyday  life,  one  has  to 
retain  many  things  by  sheer  force  of  memory,  unassisted 


THE  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  MEMORY.  143 

fry  reason.  No  one,  in  the  first  place,  ever  learned  how 
to  conjugate  the  English,  Greek,  or  German  verb  "to  be" 
by  force  of  reason. 

The  remaining  secondary  laws  of  association  will  be 
found  especially  helpful  in  enabling  us  to  learn  arbitrary 

facts,  as  well  as  related  ones. 

*  c^.  f\ 

.    jxMAGTVlUX  •    D  Vto  >M>  <*$>« 

Law  of  Repetitionf—  We  have?  learned  that  there  is 
struggle  on  the  part  of  mental  images  to  survive.     Life 

weakest  go  to  the  wall.     Vigorous 


and  well-grounded  images  will  monopolize  the  field  of  con- 
sciousness and  of  course  exclude  the  weaker  ones.  The 
secondary  laws  of  association  show  us  what  gives  an  image 
strength,  what  enables  it  to  survive. 

Since  we  have  learned  that  memory  is  dependent  on  a 
physical  disposition  of  brain  cells,  repetition  has  held  a 
high  place  in  memory  culture.  In  order  to  achieve  per- 
manent results  in  growing  and  changeable  matter,  the 
cause  must  be  persistently  active.  When  we  speak  of 
repetition  as  an  aid  to  memory,  we  do  not  necessarily  mean 
blind  repetition.  The  steps  in  a  reasoning  process  can  be 
repeated  as  well  as  a  series  of  incoherent  ideas.  Therefore, 
repetition  is  as  much  of  an  aid  to  intelligent  as  to  unin- 
telligent memory.  Few  persons  realize  how  great  an  aid 
it  is  in  both  cases. 

It  is  a  stupendous  task  to  learn  even  our  own  language 
so  as  to  speak  it  readily,  but  constant  repetition  fixes  word 
after  word  so  firmly  in  the  mind,  that  we  can  recall  thou- 
sands with  no  danger  of  forgetting.  The  reason  why  it  is 
desirable  to  go  to  a  foreign  country  to  learn  its  language  is 
because  repetition  works  there  with  full  force.  We  are 
constantly  hearing  the  same  words  and  phrases.  We  are 
compelled  to  talk  the  language  ourselves,  and  to  keep 


144  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

constantly  using  the  vocabulary  we  have  acquired.  When 
we  leave  the  country  and  neglect  to  use  the  language  for  a 
long  time,  we  find  that  so  many  words  have  slipped  away 
that  we  are  perplexed  to  carry  on  continued  conversation. 
And  yet  a  moderate  amount  of  repetition  after  our  return 
will  enable  us  to  keep  our  memory  of  the  language  fresh. 
It  is  a  difficult  task  to  learn  twenty-six  meaningless  sym- 
bols in  exact  order,  yet  repetition  has  enabled  us  all  to 
remember  the  letters  of  the  alphabet  in  order.  We  never 
even  fear  making  a  mistake  as  we  hasten  over  them. 

Because  of  the  natural  law  that  everything  tends  to 
weaken  by  disuse,  muscle  and  mind  alike,  we  should  all 
endeavor  to  enter  into  some  pursuit  or  study  that  will 
force  us  to  make  constant  use  of  the  knowledge  we 
already  have.  The  fact  that  writing  does  this  in  an 
eminent  degree  has  led  Alexander  Bain  to  remark  that 
"a  course  of  book  reading  without  attempts  at  original 
composition  is  as  faulty  an  extreme  as  to  begin  and  carry 
on  writing  upon  a  stinted  basis  of  reading."  A  class  or  a 
literary  club  is  fitted  to  draw  forth  whatever  knowledge 
one  possesses  and  to  keep  it  fresh  by  constant  use.  Pjetv 
haps  the  most  valuable  auxiliary  to  the  memory  is  conver- 
sation. If  we  talk  over  with  some  sympathetic  friend 
what  we  have  read,  we  refresh  our  knowledge,  and  im- 
press our  own  minds  doubly ;  for  the  conversational  way 
of  putting  things  demands  that  we  first  have  lucid  ideas 
and  then  express  them  in  the  clearest  manner. 

A  patient  German,  Professor  Ebbinghaus,  experimented 
with  his  memory  for  over  two  years,  and  he  learned  many 
important  facts  about  remembering  and  forgetting.  He 
could  recall  in  order  with  one  reading  seven  meaningless 
words.  In  '  order  to  recall  twelve  such  words,  sixteen 
readings  were  necessary ;  to  recall  twenty-four  words, 


THE  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  MEMORY.  145 

forty-four  readings  were  required.  After  an  interval  of 
one  hour  more  than  one  half  of  the  words  had  been  for- 
gotten. In  eight  hours  two  thirds  had  slipped  from  mem- 
ory. From  that  time  on  the  rate  of  forgetting  was  slower, 
and  at  the  end  of  a  month  one  fifth  was  remembered. 

These  experiments  afford  some  practical  truths  (i) 
We  must  expect  to  forget  soon  the  greater  part  of  what  we 
have  learned,  unless  we  have  an  occasional  thorough  review, 
or  unless  the  knowledge  is  such  that  we  have  to  make  con- 
stant use  of  it.  (2)  Thoroughness  at  the  time  of  learning 

but  the  German 


professor  found  that  no  amount  of  repetition  at  the  time  of 
the  original  memorizing  would  make  him  sure  of  remem- 
bering for  all  future  time.  The  work  must  be  reviewed 
after  an  interval  of  time.  The  fact  that  an  iron  has 
been  well  polished  once  does  not  render  it  certain  that  it 
will  never  again  rust.  A  young  physician  thought  that 
he  could  turn  his  attention  entirely  away  from  medicine 
toward  something  else  and  still  retain  his  medical  knowl- 
edge. After  he  had  followed  this  course  for  six  years,  he 
declared  that  he  felt  almost  as  incompetent  to  treat  a  case 
of  diphtheria,  which  presented  itself  to  him,  as  if  he  had 
never  studied  medicine.  Much  disappointment  will  be 
avoided  in  any  walk  of  life,  if  we  do  not  expect  to 
remember  those  facts  which  we  do  not  frequently  review.^  ^  _ 

Law  of  Emotional  Preference.  —  There  is  nothing  easier 
than  for  one  to  recollect  what  greatly  interests  him.  If 
•interest  i^ji_be--brQiiffht  to  the  aid  of  memory.  the-battle_ 
is-partially-JKOJ).  Boys,  who  could  apparently  remember 
nothing  in  the  way  of  study,  have  gone  to  a  baseball  game 
and  been  able  to  recall  every  one  of  the  complex  moves. 
The  power  of  interest  furnishes  the  reason  why  the 

HALLECK'S  PSYC.  —  1C 


146  PSYCHOLOGY  AND  PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

ory  of  the  creditor  is  proverbially  excellent.  There  was  a 
certain  man  who.  had  two  kinds  of  memory,  so  his  enemies 
said, — one  for  his  own  affairs,  which  was  excellent ;  another 
for  the  affairs  of  others,  which  was  execrable. 

One  way,  therefore,  in  which  to  render  a  mental  acquisi- 
tion permanent  is  to  become  interested  in  it.  If  the  subject 
is  something  for  which  we  have  not  naturally  a  particle  of 
interest,  it  is  still  possible  to  acquire  an  indirect  interest. 
We  may  consider  how  the  acquisition  will  some  day  be 
advantageous,  how  it  will  bring  us  either  fame,  friends, 
or  money.  When  we  look  at  things  from  the  point  of 
view  of  their  results,  it  is  far  easier  to  become  inter- 
ested. The  writer  once  knew  a  man  who  dreaded  learn- 
ing isolated  facts  or  arbitrary  symbols,  yet  he  quickly 
mastered  stenography  because  he  knew  it  would  be  the 
means  of  his  gaining  a  livelihood.  Interest  works  with 
double  leverage,  first  rendering  acquisition  easy  and  pleas- 
ant and  then  making  memory  sure. 

If  we  were  to  take  a  careful  inventory  of  all  remembered 
facts,  we  should  find  that  the  vast  majority  were  those  in 
which  we  felt  an  interest.  Other  facts  naturally  slide  out 
of  the  memory  by  default  of  repetition. 

Law  of  Voluntary  Attention.  —  Those  ideas  are  most  apt 
to  be  recalled  upon  which  we  have  by  an  act  of  the  will 
centered  our  attention.  Joseph  Cook  well  says  :  "  Atten- 
tion is  the  mother  of  memory,  and  interest  is  the  mother 
of  attention.  To  secure  memory,  secure  both  her  mother 
and  grandmother." 

Many  persons  read  mechanically  or  automatically  ;  they 
are  perfectly  passive ;  they  never  summon  their  will  power 
to  aid  them  in  ferreting  out  the  thought.  There  are  many 
who  pass  through  life  without  ever  concentrating  all  their 


THE  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  MEMORY.  147 

mental  energy  upon  a  single  page.  Just  as  a  sunglass  can 
focus  the  solar  rays  until  a  fire  is  kindled,  so  the  will  can 
concentrate  the  intellectual  energies  upon  a  subject  until 
it  is  fused  and  absorbed  by  the  mind.  That  mechanical  or 
involuntary  attention  which  the  majority  give  to  their  read- 
ing, or  to  their  so-called  study,  explains  why  so  many  so 
soon  forget  what  they  have  read.  The  memories  of  such 
people  are  apt  to  grow  poorer  and  poorer ;  it  becomes  in- 
creasingly harder  for  them  to  break  up  their  habits  of 
inattention,  and  so  lasting  memory  is  lost  to  them. 

On  the  other  hand,  when  the  habit  of  concentrating  the 
attention  has  once  been  formed,  it  requires  less  and  less 
effort  to  keep  the  mind  firmly  fixed  on  a  subject.  Per- 
sons traveling  through  an  interesting  country  may  let  the 
scenery  be  imaged  on  the  retina,  without  directing  any 
energetic  attention  toward  certain  features.  If  asked  at 
the  journey's  end  to  describe  the  country,  they  are  unable 
to  do  so.  A  copyist,  having  transcribed  a  long  article,  was 
asked  to  give  as  much  as  possible  of  its  contents,  the  arti- 
cle having  been  lost.  Though  he  had  copied  every  word, 
he  did  not  retain  a  single  thought,  for  the  reason  that  he 
had  not  fastened  his  attention  upon  the  thought.  One 
reason  why  drawing  is  such  an  excellent  aid  to  memory  is 
because  such  severe  drafts  are  made  upon  the  attention. 

Many  persons  sigh  over  a  weak  memory,  never  think- 
ing that  the  trouble  is  rather  in  the  will.  One  of 
the  saddest  things  in  life  is  to  see  the  vast  amount  of 
misapplied  and  unused  mental  energy.  Every  person, 
ought  occasionally  to  talk  to  himself  in  this  way :  "  I  am 
sure  that  I  can  remember  a  thing  if  I  am  determined  to  do 
so.  The  trouble  has  hitherto  lain  in  my  will,  not  in  my 
memory.  My  will  has  been  a  milk-and-water  kind  of  an 
affair,  worthy  of  a  jellyfish,  not  of  a  human  being.  I  have 


148  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

been  impatient  to  master  a  given  subject  quickly  and  1 
have  determined  that  if  I  could  not  fly  to  a  given  place,  I 
would  scorn  to  walk  slowly  to  it.  I  hate  trouble  and  hard 
work,  and  that  is  the  reason  why  I  do  not  improve.  JT~ 
realize  that  persons  with  half  my  intellect.  bi]{;  dnnhlp 
wjU,,  are_surpassing  me  every  day  Shall  the  tortoise  con- 
tinue *°  b-^at  the  harp  in  lifo'fi  rnfift ?  He  will  if  he  keeps 
plodding  right  aloQg,  tW"ing  ripith<*r»n  flic  rigfrt  nor  left." 

MIND  WANDERING. 

Practical  Remedies  for  Mind  Wandering.  —  A  sure  cure 
for  mind  wandering  is  to  make  an  abstract  from  memory 
of  sermons,  speeches,  or  books.  If  one  is  reading  a  work 
on  history,  let  him,  after  finishing  a  page,  close  the  book 
and  repeat  to  himself  the  substance  of  that  page.  If  he 
cannot  do  so  with  one  reading,  let  him  reread  until  he 
can.  It  does  not  show  good  generalship  to  march  into  a 
hostile  country  leaving  forts  and  armies  unconquered  in 
the  rear.  After  finishing  a  chapter,  let  him  repeat  to  him- 
self, or  to  some  friend,  the  substance  of  that  chapter.  At  the 
end  of  the  book,  let  him  repeat  the  main  facts  in  the  entire 
work.  The  mind  may  wander  at  first,  and  scarcely  any- 
thing may  be  retained  from  one  reading ;  but  as  soon  as 
the  mind  feels  that  it  will  be  surely  called  upon  to  repro- 
duce what  has  been  read,  its  energy  will  be  doubled.  It 
will  soon  cease  the  lazy  habit  of  merely  allowing  impres- 
sions to  come  in  to  meet  it ;  it  will  reach  out  to  meet  the 
impressions. 

The  writer  knows  of  a -case  of  mind  wandering  cured  by 
the  oral  recital  and  the  making  of  a  written  abstract  of  the 
substance  of  three  books,  an  English  history,  John  Stuart 
Mill's  Political  Economy,  and  a  text-book  on  psychology. 


THE  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  MEMORY.  149 

The  chapters  were  in  every  case  reread  until  a  full  abstract 
of  each  could  be  written  down  from  memory. 


VALUE  OF  PSYCHIC  LAWS  IN  MEMORY  CULTURE. 

Psychic  Laws  not  to  be  Evaded. —  The  student  ought 
not  to  be  disappointed  to  find  that  memory  is  no  exception 
to  the  rule  of  improvement  by  proper  methodical  and  long- 
continued  exercise.  There  is  no  royal  road,  no  short  cut, 
to  the  improvement  of  either  mind  or  muscle.  But  the 
student  who  follows  the  rules  which  psychology  has  laid 
down  may  know  that  he  is  walking  in  the  shortest  path, 
and  not  wandering  aimlessly  about.  Using  these  rules, 
he  will  advance  much  faster  than  those  without  chart, 
compass,  or  pilot.  He  will  find  mnemonics  of  extremely 
limited  use.  Improvement  comes  by  orderly  steps. 
Methods  that  dazzle  at  first  sight  never  give  solid  results. 
After  a  careful  study  of  all  the  principal  memory  methods, 
the  writer  has  endeavored  to  give  all  the  rules  that  will  be 
found  of  practical  service.  These  rules  are  merely  practi- 
cal applications  of  the  inexorable  psychological  laws  stated 
in  the  foregoing  pages. 

AUTHORITIES   QUOTED- 

1.  Ziehen's  Introduction  to  Physiological  Psychology,  p.  220. 

2.  Ziehen,  Ibid.,  pp.  170-1. 

3.  Gallon's  Inquiries  into  Human  Faculty,   pp.  109,  113-4 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  IMAGINATION  AND  ITS  CULTURE. 

IMAGINATION. 

Definition.  — \Jmagination  is  the  power  of  representing 
a  mental  product  as  an  image.)  Whenever  any  idea  is 
embodied  in  an  image,  the  result  is  the  work  of  imagina- 
tion. Both  memory  and  imagination  are  merely  the  repre- 
sentative power  at  work.  As  we  shall  see  presently,  there 
is  no  absolute  line  of  demarcation  between  its  products. 
Things  which  have  once  been  presented  are  presented 
again  by  the  imagination,  in  a  more  or  less  new  way. 

A  completed  image  of  an  individual  thing  is  a  complex 
product,  woven  from  the  raw  material  of  several  sensations. 
As  before  stated,  the  term  "  image  "  in  psychology,  is  as 
applicable  to  a  represented  sensation  of  the  ear  as  to  one 
of  the  eye.  There  are  auditory,  tactile,  olfactory,  gusta- 
tory, and  optical  images. 

Imagination  in  Perception.  —  We  have  already  seen 
that  sensation  furnishes  raw  materials  for  perception  to 
interpret.  Imagination  always  aids  in  this  process.  If  we 
look  at  an  apple  before  us,  we  construct  an  image  of  the 
opposite  side,  which  we  cannot  see.  Otherwise  we  could 
never  have  an  idea  of  an  entire  apple,  a  pitcher,  a  house, 
or  anything  of  which  we  could  not  see  all  parts  at  once. 
When  we  are  directly  in  front  of  a  person,  we  do  not 
conclude  that  his  head  ends  with  the  part  of  his  face  that 

150 


THE  IMAGINATION  AND  ITS  CULTURE.  151 

we  see.  We  represent  to  ourselves  the  back  of  his  head. 
Let  any  one  suppose  that  the  face  of  some  actual  person 
is  all  there  is  to  the  head,  that  the  back  part  either  does 
not  exist  or  has  been  sawed  off,  and  then  notice  the  differ- 
ence in  the  idea  of  that  person's  head.  We  perceive  only 
the  outside  of  a  watermelon,  but  that  means  little  to  us 
unless  we  picture  the  ruddy  interior  with  its  rows  of  seeds. 

Two  Uses  of  the  Term  Imagination.  —  I.  In  one  sense 
imagination  is  the  power  of  so-called  literal  reproduc- 
tion of  an  actually  existing  thing,  under  the  semblance  of 
an  image.  This  is  precisely  what  we  mean  by  an  image 
of  memory.  If  we  close  our  eyes  and  image  an  apple  as 
faithfully  as  possible,  we  use  imagination  in  this  sense  of 
the  term. 

II.  There  are  images  to  which  there  is  nothing  exactly 
corresponding  in  the  external  world.  We  illustrate  in  a 
marked  way  the  power  of  the  imagination  to  construct 
such  images,  when  we  form  ideas  of  a  mermaid,  Pegasus, 
a  winged  angel,  or  a  bridge  before  it  is  built. 

No  Absolute  Line  of  Demarcation  between  These  Two 
Classes  of  Images.  —  Recent  psychology  has  triumphantly 
bridged  over  the  gap  between  the  so-called  literal  and 
the  constructive  image,  as  Professor  Wundt  clearly  shows, 
when  he  says  :  "  Psychologists  are  accustomed  to  define 
memory  images  as  ideas  which  exactly  reproduce  some 
previous  perception,  and  fancy  images  as  ideas  consisting 
of  a  combination  of  elements  taken  from  a  whole  number 
of  perceptions.  Now  memory  images  in  the  sense  of  this 
definition  simply  do  not  exist.  .  .  .  Try,  for  instance, 
to  draw  from  memory  some  landscape  picture  which  you 
have  only  once  seen,  and  then  compare  your  copy  with 


152  PSYCHOLOGY  AND  PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

the  original.  You  will  expect  to  find  plenty  of  mistakes 
and  omissions ;  but  you  will  also  invariably  find  that  you 
have  put  a  great  deal  in  which  was  not  in  the  original,  but 
which  comes  from  landscape  pictures  which  you  have  seen 
somewhere  else.  .  .  .  There  is  no  memory  image  that 
reproduces  either  the  primary  perception  image,  or  any 
other  memory  image  of  that  same  perception." 

We  may,  therefore,  state  as  a  law  the  fact  that  images, 
never  exactly  reproduce  the  originaL..  object.  They  are 
subject  to  constant  change  from  loss  of  certain  elements, 
from  the  addition  of  elements  belonging  to  different  expe- 
riences, and  from  changes  in  retentive  brain  tracts. 

Popular  common  sense  nevertheless  insists  that  there  is 
a  difference  in  images  with  respect  to  reality.  After  we 
remember  the  conditions  given  above,  we  may  rightly 
admit  that  some  images  are  more  like  reality  than  others. 
We  may  give  an  approximately  accurate  statement  of  the 
difference  between  the  two  classes  of  images  as  follows  : 
Images  differ  in  the  exactness  wherewith  they  represent  real 
things.  Some  images  are  much  more  nearly  literal  copies 
of  existing  things,  are  more  easily  recognized  as  representa- 
tions of  things  that  have  actually  been  perceived.  The 
image  of  a  Pegasus,  unlike  that  of  an  ordinary  horse,  could 
not  be  referred  to  an  object  seen  before.  .  The  element  of 
recognition  is  therefore  less  prominent  in  the  second  type 
of  imagination. 

Dissociation.  —  As  association  is  the  first  step  in  simply 
remembering  things,  so  dissociation  is  the  process  pre- 
liminary to  imagination  of  the  second  type.  All  concrete 
images  are  formed  in  the  first  place  by  associating  certain 
elements.  There  is  also  the  power  of  dissociating  them, 
preparatory  to  combining  them  in  different  ways.  By 


THE  IMAGINATION  AND  ITS  CULTURE.  153 

referring  to  Fig.  20,  page  113,  we  see  that  sensations  from 
one  object  through  the  various  senses  pour  into  different 
parts  of  the  brain.  Hence  imagination  has  some  naturally 
dissociated  material,  with  which  to  begin. 
,  .Experience  is  dissociative  as  well  as  associative*.  The 
ild  pulls  his  toys  to  pieces  and  dismembers  his  dolls.  If 
Irving  had  no  nursery  experience  that  prompted  the 
introduction  of  the  Headless  Hessian  into  The  Legend 
of  Sleepy  Hollow,  soldiers  who  were  contemporary  with 
Irving  had  had  such  experiences.  Man  tears  things  to 
pieces  every  day.  He  sees  the  trees  bare'  in  winter,  then 
covered  with  vernal  foliage  and  laden  with  autumnal  fruit. 
He  views  the  trees  now  standing,  now  cut  down,  now 
transformed  into  a  beam,  a  board,  a  desk,  a  car.  He 
sees  the  wool  on  the  back  of  the  sheep  reappear  in  the 
most  varied  forms  of  clothing.  The  traveler  to  regions 
south  of  the  equator  finds  cold  dissociated  from  December 
and  associated  with  June,  and  whiteness  dissociated  from 
swans.  In  winter  we  see  fluidity  dissociated  from  water, 
and,  if  the  cold  is  sufficiently  intense,  from  the  metal 
mercury  also. 

/Preliminary  dissociation  is  the  antecedent  step  to  hnagi- 
(jative  construction.  If  an  architect  wishes  to  build  a  new 
structure  out  of  the  materials  of  an  old  house,  he  must  first 
pull  it  down  and  separate  them,  so  as  to  have  them  ready 
for  recombination.  If  things  come  with  one  invariable 
associate,  it  is  hard  work  to  imagine  them  unconnected 
with  that.  The  King  of  Siam  had  always  associated 
fluidity  with  water,  and  he  could  not  possibly  imagine 
how  its  surface  could  ever  become  hard  enough  for  his 
elephants  to  walk  on.  In  the  time  of  Columbus,  the 
imagination  could  not  picture,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
globe,  men  with  feet  toward  ours.  Children,  and  all  who 


154  PSYCHOLOGY   AND    PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 

have  had  little  experience  with  the  outside  world,  have 
narrow  imaginations,  partly  for  the  reason  that  they  have 
found  so  many  things  with  one  invariable  association. 
Giants  and  fairies  are  easily  pictured  by  children,  because 
human  beings  of  various  size  are  seen  every  day.  A  man 
at  a  considerable  distance  would  appear  no  larger  than 
a  fairy  or  a  pigmy.  One  of  the  easiest  exercises  of  the 
imagination  is  to  vary  things  in  size,  because  magnitude 
changes  not  only  with  individuals  but  with  distance. 

Different  Imaginative  Products.  —  I.  The  imagination 
can  construct  an  approximately  literal  image  of  some  exist- 
ing object.  We  may  form  an  image  of  a  tree  with  a  view 
to  drawing  it  as  exactly  as  possible. 

II.  The  imagination  has  the  power  of  separating  parts 
of  concrete   objects.     We   may  imagine   a   human   head 
floating  through   space,  separated   from   the  body.     The 
Bible  tells  us  of  a  hand  that  wrote  upon  the  wall.     We 
may  form  images   of   a  tree   without   branches,  or  of  a 
branch  separated  from  the  tree.     In  short,  we  may  image 
anything,  from  the  claws  of  an  eagle  to  the  nose  of  a 
swine,  separated  from  the  usual  co-Q.CQmitants. 

III.  The  imagination  may  form  a  simple  combinatwn  of 
separated  elements.     The  Grecian  joined   the  head   and 
trunk  of  a  man  to  the  body  of  a  horse,  and  thereby  gave 
us  the   mythical  Centaur.     To  the  body  of  a  goat,  the 
imagination  added   the  head  of  a  lion  and  the  tail  of  a 
dragon,  thus  forming  the  classical  Chimaera.     To  the  body 
of  a  dog,  the  imagination  added  three  heads,  and  put  snakes 
in  place  of  hair,  thus  fashioning  Cerberus,  the  guardian 
dog  of  Hades.     The  Harpies  had  the  head  of  a  beautiful 
maiden,  the  body  of  a  vulture,  and  the  claws  of  an  eagle. 
The  mediaeval  Satan  was  constructed   by  adding  to  the 


THE  IMAGINATION   AND   ITS  CULTURE.  155 

human  form  the  horns  of  a  goat,  the  hoofs  and  tail  of  an 
ox,  and  the  wings  of  a  bat.  Mercury's  sandals  were  pro- 
pelled  by  the  wings  of  a  bird.  Our  caricaturists  place 
the  head  of  a  politician  on  the  body  of  a  dog,  a  monkey, 
or  a  serpent. 

IV.  The  imagination  has  the  power  of  representing  any 
actually  existing  object  as  diminished Jn  size.     Dean  Swift 
made  use  of  this  power  in  writing  the  voyage  to  Lilliput 
in   Gullivers   Travels.     The   Lilliputians  needed   ladders 
to  climb  upon  the  body  of  Gulliver,  when  he  was  lying 
down,  although    he  was   a   man   of  ordinary   size.      The 
Grecian  imagination  has  given  us  a  vivid  account  of  the 
pigmies  fighting  with  cranes.     The  fairies,  with  an  acorn 
for  a  car  or  a  mushroom  for  a  throne,  are  examples  of  the 
use  of  this  power,  as  are  also  the  dwarfs  with  whom  the 
mediaeval  imagination  peopled  every  hill  and  mine. 

V.  The  imagination  can  enjargf,  to  an  indefinite  extent, 
images  of  actual  objects.     Thus,  we  have  the  giant  Atlas 
carrying  the  heavens  upon   his  shoulders,  the    Hundred- 
handed  Giants,  and   the  Cyclops  whose   single   eye  was 
larger  than  a  saucer.       In   the  voyage  to  Brobdingnag, 
Swift  tells  us  of  men  seventy-two  feet  in  height.     In  that 
country  Gulliver's  head  could  be  taken   into  an  infant's 
mouth.     The  Norse  imagination  made  the  Midgard  Ser- 
pent so  large  that  it  encircled  the  earth. 

I.  The  imagination  has  the  power  of  selecting  from 
the  elements  of  images  of  past  experience,  of  altering 
these  selected  parts  according  to  a  rational  plan,  and  ot 
constructing  a  new  image  from  these  changed  elements. 
The  productions  of  the  great  musical  composers,  poets, 
artists,  and  inventors  illustrate  this  constructive  power 
Nature  gives  us  no  object  like  a  watch,  a  steam  engine, 
a  typewriter,  or  a  typesetting  machine.  The  mind  has  no 


\JUAA_d/Yj23-*«m      . 
v^  ^ 

PSYCHOLOGY  AND  PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

more  important  power  at  its  disposal  than  the  constructive 
imagination. 

Difference  between  the  Mechanical  and  the  Constructive 
Imagination.  —  Considering  imagination  as  the  power  of 
forming  an  image  which  does  not  represent  with  ap- 
proximate exactness  any  existing  thing,  we  must  dis- 
tinguish between  that  process  which  merely  joins  un- 
changed parts  of  different  objects  and  that  which  makes 
a  change  before  uniting  them.  If  half  a  woman  is  joined 
to  half  a  fish,  thus  forming  a  mermaid ;  if  the  head  of  a 
donkey  is  placed  by  a  comic  artist  on  the  shoulders  of  a 
man,  —  we  have  examples  of  the  mechanical  imagination. 
If  a  shapeless  lump  of  iron  is  fashioned  into  a  sewing 
machine  or  a  locomotive,  —  the  image  must  precede  the 
material  fashioning,  —  we  have  imagination  in  the  construc- 
tive sense. 

The  mechanical  imagination,  which  joins  images  in  any 
order,  is  seen  in  dreams ;  incongruous  images  make  their 
appearance,  subject  to  no  plan.  The  lighter  creations  of 
fancy  often  show  the  predominance  of  a  passive  mechan- 
ical element,  although  construction  is  sometimes,  at  work 
in  a  marked  degree  in  both  dreams  and  fancy.  //'^> ' 

/yw 

The  Constructive  Imagination.  —  The  mechanical  imagi- 
nation joins  dissociated  parts  without  altering  them.  Such 
products  are  as  inferior  to  those  of  the  constructive  imagi- 
nation as  is  a  pile  of  brick  to  a  finished  house. 

I.  The  constructive  imagination  is  always  characterized 
by  a  definite  purpose,  which  is  never  lost  sight  of  until  the 
image  is  complete.  A  child  starts  to  build  a  house  out 
of  blocks.  These  are  often  changed  and  taken  down  many 
times,  before  the  form  in  which  they  are  built  is  such  as 


THE  IMAGINATION  AND   ITS  CULTURE.  157 

to  fit  the  growing,  purposive  image  in  the  child's  mind. 
Before  an  architect  builds  a  house,  he  must  form  succes- 
sive images,  which  he  alters  whenever  they  conflict  with 
the  general  plan  of  that  special  dwelling.  An  inventor 
often  spends  years  in  changing  and  recombining  the  im- 
ages of  parts  of  his  machine,  but  he  is  all  the  while  domi- 
nated by  a  definite  purpose.  The  images  must  be  altered 
until  matter  poured  into  their  mold  fulfills  the  aim  of  the 
inventor. 

II.  The  constructive   imagination  is  selective.     Images 
which  do  not  suit  a  given  purpose  are  rejected.     But  few 
of  the  many  images  summoned   by  the  poet  or  inventor 
are  chosen.     A  child   could   not  reach  a  coveted  article 
on   the  mantel  in  a  sleeping  room.     Imagination  began 
to  work,  and  soon  a  chair  was  pushed  up  to  the  mantel ; 
but  the  chair  was  not  sufficiently  high  for  the  article  to 
be  reached.     Again  the  imagination  worked.     The  child 
glanced  at  a  second   chair  with  the  evident  intention  of 
putting  that  on  the  first,  but  the  result,  though  only  im- 
aged in  this  case,  did  not  appear  to  please  him.     When 
this  image  was  dismissed,  another  was  selected.     On  the 
bed  was  lying  a  comforter,  the  shape  of  which  did  not  fit 
the  chair.     The  child  soon  formed  images  of  that  com- 
forter folded  into  the  right  size  to  go  between  the  arms  of 
the  chair;  then  he  made  the  actual  folds  fit  his  mental 
images.     The  comforter  in  its  changed  form  was  placed 
in  the  chair,  and  the  article  could  then  be  reached.     In 
an  incipient   way,  this   child   showed   the  same  kind  of 
selective   imagination   that    is    possessed   by   builders   of 
bridges  and  of  houses. 

III.  The  constructive  imagination  is  always  ajdejHnjts 
work.by  theJ^^^^girjower.    The  image  which  comes  next, 
no  matter  how  incongruous,  is  allowed  to  form  a  part  of 


158  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

our  dream  fabric,  and  often  of  our  web  of  fancy.     When 
the  constructive  imagination  is  at  work,  thought  scrutinizes 
closely  every  new  arrival  in  the  throng  of  images.     Only 
those  which  comparison  shows  to  be  the  most  fit  for  the 
purpose  in  hand  are  allowed  to  linger.    The  inventor  never  i 
thinks  harder  than  when  he  is  comparing  his  images  with! 
each  other  and  rejecting  the  unfit.     Thought  also  enables 
him  to  change  an  image  in  conformity  to  a  certain  plan. 

The  Constructive  Imagination  the  Basis  of  Progress. — 
The  products  of  the  constructive  imagination  have  been 
the  only  stepping  stones  for  material  progress.  The  con- 
structive imagination  of  primeval  man,  aided  by  thought, 
began  to  conquer  the  world.  When  the  winter's  cold 
came,  the  imagination  pictured  the  skin  of  the  animal 
on  the  human  body.  Will  power  going  out  in  action 
merely  made  that  image  a  reality.  If  the  skin  in  its 
natural  state  did  not  fit  as  well  as  the  image  indicated,  the 
skin  was  altered  and  fastened  together  until  it  did  approxi- 
mate to  the  image.  The  chimney,  the  stove,  the  stage- 
coach, the  locomotive,  are  successive  milestones,  showing 
the  progressive  march  of  the  imagination. 

Materials  at  the  Disposal  of  the  Imagination.  —  After 
studying  the  constructive  imagination,  the  student  is  likely 
to  have  false  impressions  of  its  powers.  The  imagination 
is  always  tied  to  the  stake  of  perception  by  a  cord  of  greatei 
or  less  length.  The  imagination  gets  every  particle  of -its- 
material  from  the  senses.  Let  any  one  note  the  result 
when  he  shuts  his  eyes  and  tries  to  imagine  a  new  color. 
The  imagination  is  not  a  creative  power,  for  it  must  have 
materials  to  start  with.  The  popular  impression  that  the 
imagination  can  create  something  out  of  nothing  is  utterly 


THE  IMAGINATION  AND  ITS  CULTURE. 

erroneous.  A  disorderly  pile  of  brick  may  be  fashioned  into 
a  house ;  a  shapeless  mass  of  metal  may  be  wrought  into  a 
watch,  an  engine,  a  sewing  machine,  or  a  bicycle  ;  but  none 
of  these  can  be  constructed  without  the  fitting  raw  material. 
So  it  is  with  the  imagination,  which  can  transform  the  raw 
material  of  the  senses  into  wonderful  forms,  but  the  mate- 
rial must  be  present  at  the  start.  The  dreams  of  a  person 
blind  from  birth  never  embody  a  single  image  of  sight. 

The  pages  of  literature  verify  these  statements  in  a 
striking  way.  The  picture  of  Hell  in  Milton's  Paradise 
Lost  is  suggested  by  earthly  sulphurous  fires  which  are 
enlarged  and  combined  with  other  elements.  Satan's 
figure  is  constructed  after  the  type  of  the  human  form; 
his  staff  is  larger  than  the  colossal  pine.  The  waves  of 
liquid  fire  might  have  been  suggested  by  the  ocean  in  a 
storm.  One  of  the  finest  elements  in  Milton's  Eden  is  the 
thornless  rose,  the  product  of  the  separating  power  of  the 
imagination.  The  twenty-first  chapter  of  The  Revelation 
contains  a  grand  picture  of  the  Celestial  City.  We  catch 
glimpses  of  gold,  jasper,  pearl,  sapphire,  emerald,  a  crystal 
fountain  shaded  by  a  tree  whose  leaves  are  ever  green,  but 
we  look  in  vain  for  elements  new  to  earthly  experience. 
They  are  present  simply  on  a  vaster  and  grander  scale,  and 
in  new  combinations. 

Limits  of  Imagination.  —  From  what  has  already  been 
said,  it  follows  that  the  imagination  is  limited  in  its  work 
ings.     A  man  who  has  always  been  deaf  will  be  debarred 
from  constructing  images  of  sounds  ;  a  blind  man  will  have 
no  optical  images  to  recombine  and  alter.     The  imagination^ 
is  limited  much  more  narrowly  than  we  often  suppose,  to  \ 
the  territory  of  our  own  experience  and  to  so  much  of  that  I 
of  others  as  we  interpret  in  terms  of  our  own. 


I6O  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

Almighty  revealed  to  St.  John  a  glimpse  of  things  utterly 
unlike  anything  on  earth,  man  could  never  have  under- 
stood the  description  any  better  than  the  blind  man,  who 
thought  scarlet  was  like  the  sound  of  a  trumpet,  compre- 
hended color. 

The  infinite  cannot  be  imaged.  Let  any  one  project  a 
spherical  image  toward  the  zenith,  with  a  radius  of  a  mil- 
lion miles.  Let  that  radius  be  doubled,  and  the  imagina- 
tion can  still  project  its  image  beyond.  Let  that  radius  be 
squared,  then  raised  to  a  power  above  the  billionth  until 
the  imagination  is  weary.  We  have  not  yet  imaged  the 
infinite  ;  for  common  sense  would  ask  :  Can  we  not  extend 
this  last  image  a  foot  or  a  mile  beyond  ? 


Direction  of  the  Imagination  Determined  by  the  Domi^ 
jiant  Perceptions.  —  Since  imagination  must  look  to  per- 
ception for  materials  and  suggestions,  it  follows  that  our 
personal  experience  must  determine  the  sphere  of 
our  imaginative  excellence.  The  Norseman  painted  his 
heaven,  Valhalla,  from  the  suggestions  of  his  own  per- 
sonal experience,  which  was  mostly  in  the  direction  of 
fighting  and  eating.  Valhalla  was  an  enormous  palace 
roofed  with  shields.  Spears  were  the  pillars  which  sup^> 
ported  the  ceiling.  The  seats  were  cushioned  with  coats  of 
mail.  The  gleam  of  flashing  swords  warmed  the  hall.  The 
amusements  consisted  of  eating  and  drinking  and  fighting. 
A  river  of  ale  ran  close  by  Valhalla.  The  heroes  gorged 
themselves  on  the  flesh  of  a  magic  boar,  which  was 
renewed  every  night  They  ate  and  drank  until  they 
could  hold  no  more,  fell  down  upon  the  floor  where  they 
had  been  feasting,  were  awakened  in  the  morning  by  the 
blast  of  a  horn,  then  all  grasped  their  weapons  and  rushed 
out  to  the  battlefield  \11  day  long  they  fought,  putting 


THE  IMAGINATION  AND  ITS  CULTURE.  i6l 

each  other  to  sleep  with  the  sword.  At  nightfall  a  magical 
horn  was  blown,  and  e^ery  hero's  wounds  were  healed. 
Then  there  was  the  mad  rush  for  the  river  of  ale  and  the 
flesh  of  the  boar.  Had  the  Teuton  been  asked  if  there 
were  no  other  enjoyments,  he  would  have  wondered  what 
heaven  could  furnish  more. 

The  Indian  constructed  his  heaven  out  of  the  materials 
of  his  own  experience.  Heaven  was  to  him  nothing  but 
happy  hunting  grounds,  where  the  game  never  failed,  and 
where  he  should  again  have  his  dog,  his  bow  and  arrows, 
and  his  wampum.  To  him,  the  Indian  summer  haze  was 
the  smoke  from  the  Great  Spirit's  peace  pipe. 

The   novelist   must   know   human    beings   in    all   their.    • 
phases  before  he  can  write  successfully.     In  whatever  line      - 
we  wish  our  imaginations  to  be  successful,  whether  in  '-* 
building   houses   or   bridges,   constructing   machinery    or  " 
novejs,  we  must  have  experience  in  that  special  direction.^ 

.  -/•      !  v      -\ .  .  A  X I  •       f\  ' 

ux 


Imagination  in  Scientific  Investigation.  —  Results"  in  U — r7 
nature  follow  each  other  with  comparative  slowness.  Even  . 
where  experiment  hastens  them,  the  imagination  must  pre- 
cede and  suggest  the  new  combinations  for  the  experiment. 
Before  a  bridge  of  thought  is  built  connecting  two  facts,  or 
a  cause  with  an  effect,  the  imagination  must  first  make  the 
connecting  leap.  We  can  never  realize  the  connection  of 
two  things,  until  we  have  first  joined  them  in  imagination. 
All  that  thought  does  is  to  build  a  firm  bridge  in  the  path 
thus  marked  out ;  or  thought  may  show  that  the  imagina- 
tion was  mistaken,  and  call  upon  it  to  indicate  another  path. 
Sir  Benjamin  Brodie,  a  former  President  of  the  Royal 
Society,  said  to  its  members :  "  Physical  investigation, 
more  than  anything  besides,  helps  to  teach  us  the  actual 
value  and  right  use  of  the  imagination  —  of  that  wondrous 

HALLECK'S  FSYC.  —  II 


1 62  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

faculty,  which,  when  left  to  ramble  uncontrolled,  leads  us 
astray  into  a  wilderness  of  perplexities  and  errors,  a  land 
of  mists  and  shadows  ;  but  which,  properly  controlled  by 
experience  and  reflection,  becomes  the  noblest  attribute  of 
man,  the  source  of  poetic  genius,  the  instrument  of  dis- 
covery in  science,  without  the  aid  of  which  Newton  would 
never  have  invented  fluxions  nor  Davy  have  decomposed 
the  earths  and  alkalies,  nor  would  Columbus  have  found 
another  continent." 

The  great  scientist  Tyndall  has  said  with  equal  truth  : 
"  Philosophers  may  be  right  in  affirming  that  we  cannot 
transcend  experience ;  but  we  can  at  all  events  carry  it  a 
long  way  from  its  origin.  We  can  also  magnify,  diminish, 
qualify,  and  combine  experiences,  so  as  to  render  them  fit 
for  purposes  entirely,  new.  We  are  gifted  with  the  power 
of  imagination,  and  by  this  power  we  can  lighten  the 
darkness  which  surrounds  the  world  of  the  senses.  There 
are  tories,  even  in  science,  who  regard  imagination  as  a 
faculty  to  be  feared  and  avoided  rather  than  employed. 
They  had  observed  its.  action  in  weak  vessels,  and  were 
unduly  impressed  by  its  disasters.  But  they  might  with 
equal  truth  point  to  exploded  boilers  as  an  argument 
against  the  use  of  steam.  Bounded  and  conditioned  by 
cooperant  reason,  imagination  becomes  the  mightiest 
instrument  of  the  physical  discoverer.  Newton's  passage 
from  a  falling  apple  to  a  falling  moon  was,  at  the  outset,  a 
leap  of  the  imagination." 

Unconscious  Processes  in  Imagination.  —  When  we  think 
about  a  thing,  or  keep  the  mind  full  of  a  subject,  the 
activity  in  certain  brain  tracts  is  probably  much  increased. 
As  a  result  of  this  unconscious  preparation,  a  full-fledged 
image  may  suddenly  rise  in  consciousness.  In  this  way 


THE  IMAGINATION  AND  ITS  CULTURE.  163 

dreams  have  resulted  in  the  formation  of  remarkable 
constructive  images,  which  have  helped  an  inventor  to 
complete  his  machine.  Goethe  says  that  he  wrote  the 
Sorrows  of  Werther  almost  unconsciously,  and  afterward 
marveled  at  the  work.  Antecedent  brain  preparation  in- 
volved in  brooding  over  such  subject  matter  helped  the 
spontaneous  appearance  of  images.  Auditory  images  fre- 
quently whirl  through  the  brain  of  a  musician,  even  when 
he  is  trying  to  be  mentally  passive.  Professor  Hoffding 
says :  "  The  interweaving  of  the  elements  of  the  picture 
in  the  imagination  takes  place  in  great  measure  below  the 
threshold  of  consciousness,  so  that  the  image  suddenly 
emerges  in  consciousness  complete  in  its  broad  outlines, 
the  conscious  result  of  an  unconscious  process."  The  fact 
should  be  emphasized,  however,  that  this  phenomenon 
occurs  only  after  the  mind  has  been  carefully  considering 
a  certain  subject.  /  X- 

-i* 

'/INFLUENCE  OF  THE  IMAGINATION  UPON  THE  BODY. 

Strong  Effects  of  Imagination.  —  When  a  mental  image 
is  taken  for  a  reality,  the  most  astonishing  results  often 
follow ;  indeed,  sometimes  they  are  more  pronounced 
than  if  the  image  were  a  reality.  One  can  find  many 
illustrations  of  this  in  everyday  life. 

A  member  of  a  family  purchased  some  perfectly  fresh 
meat,  and  it  occurred  to  him  that  the  dinner  table  would 
afford  a  good  opportunity  of  testing  the  power  of  the 
imagination  on  the  senses,  so  he  remarked  that  he  was 
sorry  he  had  not  some  Frenchmen  as  guests  at  dinner, 
since  the  meat  would  have  exactly  suited  them,  as  it  was 
so  gamy  and  tender  that  it  would  not  hang  on  the  butcher's 
hook.  Several  at  once  perceived  an  unmistakably  putrid 


164  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

taste,  and  one  member  of  the  family,  unable  to  endure  the 
odor,  left  the  table. 

A  fussy  man  would,  at  breakfast,  occasionally  insist  that 
the  cream  was  too  sour  for  his  oatmeal,  and  he  made  much 
trouble  in  sending  out  for  a  fresh  supply.  Finally  his  wife 
told  the  servant  to  keep  some  of  the  same  cream  outside, 
and  to  bring  that  in  whenever  there  were  complaints, 
with  the  assurance  that  it  would  prove  fresh.  The  new 
supply  always  seemed  much  better  to  the  husband. 
Tradesmen  often  take  advantage  of  this  power  of  the 
imagination  when  they  have  a  very  particular  customer, 
and  sell  him  precisely  the  same  article  at  an  advanced 
\price. 

Were  it  not  for  this  power  of  the  imagination,  the 
majority  of  quack  nostrums  would  disappear.  In  most 
cases  bread  pills,  properly  labeled,  with  positive  assurances 
of  certain  cure  accompanying  them,  would  answer  the 
purpose  far  better  than  these  nostrums,  or  even  much 
better  than  a  great  deal  of  the  medicine  administered  by 
regular  physicians. 

Warts  have  been  charmed  away  by  medicines  which 
could  have  had  only  a  mental  effect.  Dr.  Tuke  gives 
many  cases  of  patients  cured  of  rheumatism  by  rubbing 
them  with  a  certain  substance  declared  to  possess  magic 
power.  The  material  in  some  cases  was  metal ;  in  others, 
wood ;  in  still  others,  wax.  He  also  recites  the  case  of 
a  very  intelligent  officer  who  had  vainly  taken  power- 
ful remedies  to  cure  cramp  in  the  stomach.  Then  "he 
was  told  that  on  the  next  attack  he  would  be  put  under 
a  medicine  which  was  generally  believed  to  be  most  effec- 
tive, but  which  was  rarely  used."  When  the  cramps  came 
on  again,  "a  powder  containing  four  grains  of  ground 
biscuit  was  administered  every  seven  minutes,  wnile  the 


THE  IMAGINATION  AND  ITS  CULTURE.  165 

greatest  anxiety  was  expressed  (within  the  hearing  of  the 
party)  lest  too  much  should  be  given.  Half-drachm  doses 
of  bismuth  had  never  procured  the  same  relief  in  less  than 
three  hours.  For  four  successive  times  did  the  same  kind 
of  attack  recur,  and  four  times  was  it  met  by  the  same 
remedy,  and  with  like  success." 

A  house  surgeon  in  a  French  hospital  experimented  with 
one  hundred  patients,  giving  them  sugared  water.  Then, 
with  a  great  show  of  fear,  he  pretended  that  he  had 
made  a  mistake  and  given  them  an  emetic  instead  of  the 
proper  medicine.  Dr.  Tuke  says  :  "  The  result  may  easily 
be  anticipated  by  those  who  can  estimate  the  influence  of  \J 
the  imagination.  No  fewer  than  eighty  —  four  fifths  — 
were  unmistakably  sick." 

We  have  a  well  authenticated  case  of  a  butcher,  who, 
while  trying  to  hang  up  a  heavy  piece  of  meat,  slipped  and 
was  himself  caught  by  the  arm  upon  the  hook.  When  he 

as  taken  to  a  surgeon,  the  butcher  said  he  was  suffering 
so  much  that  he  could  not  endure  the  removal  of  his  coat ; 
the  sleeve  must  be  cut  off.  When  this  was  done,  it  was 
found  that  the  hook  had  passed  through  his  clothing  close  to 

e  skin,  but  had  not  even  scratched  it. 

A  man  sentenced  to  be  bled  to  death  was  blindfolded. 
A  harmless  incision  was  then  made  in  his  arm  and  tepid 
water  fixed  so  as  to  run  down  it  and  drop  with  considerable 
noise  into  a  basin.  The  attendants  frequently  commented 
on  the  flow  of  blood  and  the  weakening  pulse.  The  crimi- 
nal's false  idea  of  what  was  taking  place  was  as  powerful 
in  its  effects  as  the  reality,  and  he  soon  died. 
' "Many  persons  make  the  mistake  of  thinking  that  theh> 
;  imagination  will  never  run  away  with  them,  that  whatever 
is  said  on  this  subject  applies  only  to  other  people.  This 
class  is  generally  the  most  sensitive  to  imaginative  influ- 


1 66  PSYCHOLOGY  AND  PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

ence  While  persons  differ,  it  should  be  remembered  that 
none  are  exempt  from  the  physical  effects  of  imagination, 
—  neither  the  learned  nor  the  ignorant.  There  is  perhaps 
not  a  person  living  who  would  not  at  times  be  benefited  by 
a  bread  pill,  administered  by  some  one  in  whom  great  con- 
fidence was  reposed. 

THE  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  IMAGINATION. 

Imagination  a  Practical  Power.  —  It  was  once  thought 
that  the  imagination  should  be  repressed,  not  cultivated, 
that  it  was  in  the  human  mind  like  weeds  in  a  garden. 
We  have  already  learned  enough  to  know  that  the 
reverse  is  the  truth.  In  this  age  there  is  no  mental"] 
power  that  stands  more  in  need  of  cultivation  than_the  1 
.imagination.  So  practical  are  its  results  that  a  man  with- 
out it  cannot  possibly  be  a  good  plumber.  He  must  image 
short  cuts  for  placing  his  pipe.  The  image  of  the  direction 
to  take  to  elude  an  obstacle  must  precede  the  actual  laying 
of  the  pipe.  If  he  fixes  it  before  traversing  the  way  with 
his  imagination,  he  frequently  gets  into  trouble  and  has  to 
tear  down  his  work.  Some  one  has  said  that  the  more 
imagination  a  blacksmith  has,  the  better  will  he  shoe  a 
horse.  Every  time  he  strikes  the  red-hot  iron,  he  makes  it 
approximate  to  the  image  in  his  mind.  Nor  is  this  image 
a  literal  copy  of  the  horse's  foot.  If  there  is  a  depression 
in  that,  the  imagination  must  build  out  a  corresponding 
elevation  in  the  image,  and  the  blows  must  make  the  iron 
fit  the  image. 

Necessity  of  Abundant  Perceptional  Material.  —  Since 
the  imagination  has  not  the  miraculous  power  necessary  to 
create  something  out  of  nothing,  the  first  essential  thing 


THE  IMAGINATION  AND   ITS  CULTURE.  16; 

is  to  get  the  proper  perceptional  material  in  sufficient 
quantity.  If  a  child  has  enough  blocks,  he  can  build  "a1 
castle  or  a  palace.  Give  him  but  three  blocks,  and  his 
power  of  combination  is  painfully  limited.  Some  persons 
wonder  why  their  imaginative  power  is  no  greater,  when 
they  have  only  a  few  accurate  ideas. 

By  perceptional  material  we  mean  not  only  that  knowl- 
edge which  we  get  from  the  use  of  our  own  senses,  but 
also  all  information  coming  to  us  from  the  perceptions  of 
other  people.  An  Eskimo  will  never  have  an  adequate 
image  of  the  luxuriance  of  tropical  scenery  so  long  as  he 
remains  within  the  polar  circle  ;  but  he  can  have  far  bet- 
ter imaginative  realization  of  such  scenery  after  reading 
a  vivid  description  by  an  eye  witness.  Even  then  he  must 
interpret  all  that  he  reads  in  terms  of  the  scanty  shrubbery 
with  which  he  is  familiar,  and  his  best  imaginative  picture 
of  tropical  foliage  will  be  meager  and  dwarfed.  Imagination 
.always  builds  on  the  suggestions  pf  our  own  experience. 

The  successful  novelist  must  move  among  human  beings 
and  study,  at  first  hand,  as  many  types  as  possible.  Not 
until  then  will  his  imagination  have  the  necessary  material 
wherewith  to  work.  The  Israelites  justly  complained  that 
they  could  not  make  brick  without  straw.  The  accumula- 
tion of  the  necessary  material  is  no  mean  preliminary  to 
building  a  palace  of  novel  architecture.  Perception  must 
sow  seed  in  the  soil  of  memory  before  a  harvest  can  appeal 
under  the  guise  of  constructive  imagination  and  of  thought. 
The  person  who  wishes  to  begin  with  the  cultivation  of 
the  imagination  is  like  the  man  who  looked  for  a  harvest 
where  he  had  sown  no  seed. 

The  Materials  at  Hand  for  Cultivating  Imagination.  — 
Raw  materials  of  the  finest  order  for  the  culture  of  the 


1 68  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

imagination  are  found  in  the  lives  of  almost  all.  We  may 
instance  the  autumnal  leaves  with  their  glorious  coloring, 
the  wild  flowers,  the  waving  fields  of  grain,  the  play  of 
lights  and  shadows  in  the  forests,  meadows  filled  with 
clover  and  daisies,  orchards  blossoming  against  the  delicate 
spring  sky,  the  singing  birds,  the  clouds  painted  by  the 
setting  sun,  the  fantastic  silver  tops  of  the  thunder  clouds, 
the  drapery  of  mist  about  the  mountain  side  or  shifting 
over  the  valley,  the  Milky  Way,  — 

"  A  broad  and  ample  road,  whose  dust  is  gold, 
And  pavement  stars,"  — 

the  constellation  Orion  followed  by  Canis  Major  in  their 
majestic  hunt  through  the  heavens,  the  Bear,  —  monarch 
of  the  northern  heavens,  —  the  Pleiades,  human  faces  with 
their  changing  expression.  If  he  has  eyes  to  see  them, 
the  life  of  the  meanest  has  more  materials  than  we  have 
space  to  mention.  We  must  not  suppose  that  it  takes 
uncommon  materials  with  which  to  cultivate  the  imagina- 
tion. To  most  persons  there  could  be  nothing  more  pro- 
saic than  getting  up  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  to  take 
a  train.  What  room  is  there  for  imagination  in  such  an 
action  ?  Let  those  who  would  ask,  read  the  following 
description  by  Edward  Everett :  — 

"I  had  occasion,  a  few  weeks  since,  to  take  the  early  train  from 
Providence  to  Boston,  and  for  this  purpose  rose  at  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  Everything  around  was  wrapped  in  darkness  and  hushed 
in  silence,  broken  only  by  what  seemed  at  that  hour  the  unearthly 
clank  and  rush  of  the  train.  It  was  a  mild,  serene,  midsummer's 
night,  —  the  winds  were  whist.  The  moon,  then  in  her  last  quarter, 
had  just  risen,  and  the  stars  shone  with  a  spectral  luster  but  little 
affected  by  her  presence.  Jupiter,  two  hours  high,  was  the  herald  of 
the  day ;  the  Pleiades,  just  above  the  horizon,  shed  their  sweet  influ- 


THE  IMAGINATION  AND  ITS  CULTURE.  169 

ence  In  the  east.  .  .  .  Such  was  the  glorious  spectacle  as  I  entered 
the  train.  As  we  proceeded,  the  timid  approach  of  twilight  became 
more  perceptible ;  the  intense  blue  of  the  sky  began  to  soften ;  the 
smaller  stars,  like  little  children,  went  first  to  rest ;  the  sister  beams  of 
the  Pleiades  soon  melted  together ;  but  the  bright  constellations  of  the 
west  and  north  remained  unchanged.  Steadily  the  wondrous  trans- 
figuration went  on.  Hands  of  angels,  hidden  from  mortal  eyes, 
shifted  the  scenery  of  the  heavens ;  the  glories  of  night  dissolved  into 
the  glories  of  the  dawn.  The  blue  sky  now  turned  more  softly 
gray ;  the  great  watch  stars  shut  up  their  holy  eyes ;  the  east  began 
to  kindle." 

If  Edward  Everett  had  not  known  the  constellations 
apart,  and  some  of  the  myths  connected  with  them,  he 
could  not  have  given  us  this  highly  imaginative  account  of 
what  he  saw  on  that  morning.  Hjg  imagination  joined 
past  knowledge  to  present  perception.  The  less  present 
perception  one  can  use,  the  greater  must  be  his  store  of 
accumulated  knowledge  in  order  to  produce  any  really  fine 
work  of  the  imagination. 

Clear-cut  Images.  —  Th^formatiori  _ol  accurate  images 
is. essential  to  the  right  culture  of  the  imagination.  A 
good  house  cannot  be  built  out  of  shapeless  brick.  The 
use  of  words  without  definite  corresponding  images  is  fatal 
to  imagination.  If  we  study  any  branch  of  science  without 
representing  to  ourselves  by  imaginative  power  the  mean- 
ings of  the  various  terms,  our  time  is  somewhat  more  than 
wasted,  for  we  are  forming  a  bad  habit.  Molecular  vibra- 
tions, tension  of  the  ether,  undulations  of  varying  ampli- 
tude and  length,  valves  of  the  heart,  stamens,  peltate 
leaves,  Gothic  arches,  —  these  are  terms  which  should 
never  be  used  without  the  ability  to  form  sharp  images 
in  each  case.  A  person  who  had  been  talking  about 
defective  flues  as  causes  of  fires,  was  asked  to  state  plainly 


I/O  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

what  he  meant  by  a  "defective  flue."  It  was  then  seen 
that  he  had  no  clear  image  corresponding  to  the  term, 
which  was  simply  a  mask  for  ignorance.  Persons  who 
allow  themselves  to  use  terms  in  this  way  must  not  expect 
to  have  much  imaginative  power. 

Pictorial   Interpretation    Cultivates   the   Imagination. — 

Whenever  we  do  not  acquire  facts  at  first  hand,  we  should 
always  endeavor  to  translate  them  into  images.  Knowledge 
will  never  become  vivid  until  we  have  done  this.  Suppose 
we  cannot  go  to  Greenland,  India,  or  Japan,  yet  we  can 
derive  great  benefit  from  reading  works  of  travel,  if,  as 
we  read,  we  construct  pictures  of  the  inhabitants,  build- 
ings, animals,  and  natural  features.  Geography,  if  taught 
aright,  is  an  excellent  study  for  cultivating  the  imagina- 
tion. If  rivers,  capes,  sounds,  and  isthmuses,  the  tropics 
and  the  polar  regions  with  their  natural  products,  are 
imaginatively  realized,  this  power  is  cultivated  in  the 
right  way. 

One  reason  why  historic  facts  make  such  an  evanescent 
impression  is  because  they  are  not  translated  into  mental 
images.  To  most  persons,  William  the  Conqueror,  Ed- 
ward the  First,  Oliver  Cromwell,  the  Chaucerian  and  the 
Elizabethan  Age  are  little  more  than  names.  Realized 
knowledge  is  knowledge  imaginatively  represented. 

Culture  of  the  Imagination  by  Oral  Description.  —  A  per- 
son learns  to  do  things  best  by  throwing  himself  on  his 
own  resources.  An  attempt  at  a  clear-cut  oral  description 
of  something  to  another  person  will  often  deeply  impress 
ourselves  and  him  with  the  fact  that  our  mental  images  are 
hazy,  and  that  the  first  step  towards  better  description  con- 
sists in  improving  them. 


THE  IMAGINATION  AND  ITS  CULTURE.  171 

Every  tjflyc  yfi  tff^  a  story.clearly  sn  as  to  impress  the 
details  on  the  mind  of  others,  every  time  we  describe  a 
place  or  a  landscape  vividly,  ev^y  time  we  relate  what 
we  have  read  in  a  book  of  travels  so  as  to  arouse  definite 
images  in  the  minds  of  our  hearers,  ^-we_are  cultivating 
ouj.  imagination.  It  is  excellent  training  for  a  person 
to  attempt  to  describe  to  others  a  meadow,  a  grove,  an 
orchard,  the  course  of  a  brook,  the  sky  at  sunrise,  the 
starry  heavens.  If  his  description  is  not  heavy,  like  un- 
leavened bread,  the  liveliness  will  be  due  to  the  activity 
his  i 


Culture  of  the  Constructive  Imagination  by  Writing.  — 
As  soon  as  knowledge  is  acquired,  it  should  be  used  in 
as  many  different  combinations  as  possible.  No  one  should 
gather  a  mass  of  materials  without  attempting  original  com- 
position. Above  all,  every  person  should  write  something 
imaginative,  not  necessarily  for  publication,  but  as  a  matter 
of  cultivation.  He  may  write  a  description  of  a  place,  a 
mountain,  a  landscape,  a  forest,  a  storm,  the  ocean,  the 
heavens  ;  he  may  write  a  short  story,  give  a  prophetic 
picture  of  what  science  will  ultimately  accomplish,  graph- 
ically describe  the  appearance  and  life  of  the  earth  in  the 
carboniferous  age,  give  an  account  of  a  day  with  paleo- 
lithic man,  or  picture  a  mediaeval  tournament.  The  writ- 
ing of  poetry  furnishes  the  finest  imaginative  exercise. 
When  Burns  saw  his  plowshare  turning  under  a  moun- 
tain daisy,  his  imagination  at  once  began  to  work,  and  he 
gave  the  world  an  exquisite  little  poem.  Charles  Kingsley 
never  did  a  better  thing  for  his  children  than  when  he 
wrote  Greek  Heroes,  to  fire  their  imagination  with  pictures 
from  Grecian  mythology. 

Forecasting  the  plot  of  a  partially  read  novel,  or  com- 


172  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

pleting  an  unfinished  story  is  excellent  practice.  Here, 
one  is  thrown  entirely  upon  his  imagination.  For  ex- 
anjfjfe:  — 

In  ancient  Greece  a  man  was  riding  his  horse  along  a 
mountain  road  after  nightfall.  Suddenly  the  animal  obsti- 
nately stopped.  The  rider  thrice,  with  oaths,  plunged  the 
spurs  into  the  horse,  the  last  time  wounding  him  deeply. 
That  instant  a  flash  of  lightning  revealed  a  fathomless 
precipice  under  the  horse's  nostrils.  The  next  flash 
showed  the  animal  the  road,  and  the  faithful  beast  imme- 
diately sought  it  and  carried  his  master  home. 

In  the  master's  village  there  was  a  temple  dedicated  to 
the  gods.  In  one  end  of  this,  on  a  level  with  the  ground, 
there  was  a  room  whose  door  always  stood  ajar.  This  was 
called  the  room  of  Justice ;  and  it  was  intended  for  the 
fugitive,  the  wronged,  or  any  one  who  feared  injustice. 
When  the  door  was  opened  wide,  it  rang  a  loud  bell  in  the 
room  of  the  minister  of  Justice,  whose  duty  it  was  to  come 
immediately  to  inquire  into  the  merits  of  the  case. 

Fifteen  years  had  passed  since  the  night  when  the  mas- 
ter rode  his  faithful  steed  across  the  mountains.  The 
horse  was  old  and  lame,  and  unable  to  carry  his  master 
longer.  One  stormy  day,  toward  nightfall,  the  master 
drove  the  horse  out  of  the  stable  and  fastened  the  door, 
saying,  "Away,  you  worthless  beast,  you  shall  never  again 
enjoy  my  shelter  or  eat  my  grain  !  " 

Darkness  came  on  ;  the  storm  increased.  The  old  horse 
wandered  around,  seeking  shelter.  Finally  he  came  to 
the  temple;  and,  seeing  a  door  ajar,  he  pushed  it  open 
and  entered  the  room  of  Justice.  .  .  . 

Let  a  vivid  pen  picture  of  the  appearance  of  the  master, 
his  every  feature,  be  drawn  first,  then  let  the  living  steed 
be  described.  With  your  own  feelings  as  a  suggestion, 


THE  IMAGINATION  AND  ITS  CULTURE.  173 

describe  what  passed  in  the  mind  of  the  horse  on  the 
mountain  road,  and  fifteen  years  later  at  nightfall  when  he 
was  driven  from  his  stable  into  the  storm.  Describe  the 
appearance  of  the  jnirjjpter  of  Justify* 


conclusio"  <-ft  the  s^ry,  After  a  conscientious  trial  at 
this,  your  imagination  will  be  stronger  than  before.  It 
will  not  be  long  before  analogous  cases  begin  to  present 
themselves,  perhaps  of  the  way  in  whi€k-ehildrcn  some- 
times treat  their  old  parepts.  -f^f>  ' 

Comparative  Value  of  Following  Another's  Imagination 
and  Constructing  Original  Images.  —  Much  reading  will 
not  cultivate  our  constructive  imaginations  if  we  always 
keep  tied  to  the  apron  strings  of  the  images  of  other 
people.  If  we  let  another  do  all  the  lifting  for  us,  and 
take  all  the  exercise,  we  shall  get  no  muscular  develop- 
ment. If  we  take  all  our  images  ready  made  from  other 
people,  we  shall  never  have  much  imaginative  power. 
Critics  generally  find  the  source  of  the  plots  of  Shake- 
spearian plays  ;  but  the  source  is  as  unlike  the  finished 
play  as  the  caterpillar  is  different^  from  the  butterfly.  It 
has  been  said  that  Shakespeare  breathes  into  a  dead  tale 
a  creator's  breath  of  life.  "  I  have  no  imagination,"  is  a 
common  remark  from  persons  who  have,  so  to  speak,  kept 
their  imaginations  in  a  sling,  like  a  broken  arm. 

We  should  note  the  difference  of  energy  required  in 
interpreting  a  ready-made  picture  and  in  constructing  an 
original  one.  We  read  Milton's  description  of  Eden, 
and  perhaps  form  interpretive  pictures  to  correspond  in  a 
measure  to  the  description.  Let  us  apply  the  test  by  clos- 
ing the  book  and  constructing  an  original  picture  of  an 
ideal  landscape,  as  perfect  in  the  number  and  proportion 
of  elements  as  it  is  possible  for  our  imagination  to  depict 


PSYCHOLOGY  AND  PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

Now  we  have  genuine  imaginative  effort,  —  an  effort  which 
some  people  have  never  experienced. 

Coleridge,  in  The  Ancient  Mariner,  imaginatively  inter- 
prets for  us  the  sound  made  by  the  sails  of  the  ship :  — 

"...  The  sails  made  on 

A  pleasant  noise  till  noon, 
A  noise  like  of  a  hidden  brook 

In  the  leafy  month  of  June, 
That  to  the  sleeping  woods  all  night 

Singeth  a  quiet  tune." 

f  • 

Let  us  try  to  give  a  different  imaginative  interpretation 
to  the  sound,  and  we  shall  again  notice  the  difference  in 
effort  in  having  some  one  direct  our  imagination  and  in 
marking  out  an  original  path. 

No  other  age  has  equaled  the  Elizabethan  in  imagina- 
tive work.  This  was  only  partially  due  to  the  flood  of  new 
material  that  poured  in  from  the  expansion  of  the  known 
world,  through  the  discoveries  of  the  great  navigators, 
and  made  the  wildest  dream  seem  capable  of  realization. 
The  Elizabethans  used  their  imaginations  on  these  mate- 
rials and  exerted  themselves  to  a  degree  to  which  we  are 
strangers.  When  the  people  of  that  age  went  to  see 
Hamlet,  Macbeth,  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  or  As  You 
Like  It,  they  had  to  employ  in  every  scene  all  the  active 
imagination  of  which  they  were  capable.  If  the  scene 
changed  to  a  different  part  of  the  world,  a  placard  bearing 
the  words,  Rome,  Venice,  London,  or  The  Forest  of  Arden, 
announced  the  fact.  If  there  seemed  to  the  spectators  to  j 
be  any  change,  it  was  due  to  the  fact  that  their  imaginations 
projected  a  new  picture  upon  the  stage.  To-day  we  have 
every  accessory  of  scenery  and  stage  effect  to  supply  what 
the  imagination  ought  to  be  required  to  body  forth.  Lack 
of  pyerciag  enfeebles  anv  POWCT.  /-  , 


THE  IMAGINATION  AND  ITS  CULTURE.  175 

Thinking  by  Images.  —  Professor  Wundt  expresses  one 
side  of  an  important  truth  when  he  says  :  "Imagination  is, 
in  reality,  a  thinking  in  particular  sense  ideas.  As  such,  it 
is  the  source  of  all  logical  or  conceptual  thought."  THe 
man  who  does  not  think  by  images  will  never  be  a  clear 
thinker,  and  those  are  to  be  pitied  who  are  compelled  to 
follow  him.  Tyndall  has  labored  to  make  this  point  pluill ' 
and  to  show  the  importance  of  the  imagination  in  all  scien- 
tific thought.  He  says  :  "  How,  for  example,  are  we  to  lay 
hold  of  the  physical  basis  of  light,  since  like  that  of  life 
itself,  it  lies  entirely  without  the  domain  of  the  senses  ? 
.  .  .  Bring  your  imaginations  once  more  into  play  and  fig- 
ure a  series  of  sound  waves  passing  through  air.  Follow 
them  up  to  their  origin,  and  what  do  you  there  find  ?  A 
definite,  tangible,  vibrating  body.  It  may  be  the  vocal 
chords  of  a  human  being,  it  may  be  an  organ-pipe,  or  it 
may  be  a  stretched  string.  Follow  in  the  same  manner  a 
train  of  ether  waves  to  their  source,  remembering  at  the 
same  time  that  your  ether  is  matter,  dense,  elastic,  and 
capable  of  motions  subject  to  and  determined  by  mechani- 
cal laws.  What  then  do  you  expect  to  find  as  the  source 
of  a  series  of  ether  waves  ?  Ask  your  imagination  if  it 
will  accept  a  vibrating  multiple  proportion — a  numerical 
ratio  in  a  state  of  oscillation  ?  I  do  not  think  it  will.  You 
cannot  crown  the  edifice  by  this  abstraction.  The  scien- 
tific imagination  which  is  here  authoritative,  demands  as 
the  origin  and  cause  of  a  series  of  ether  waves  a  particle 
of  vibrating  matter  quite  as  definite,  though  it  may  be  ex- 
cessively minute,  as  that  which  gives  origin  to  a  musical 
sound.  Such  a  particle  we  name  an  atom  or  a  molecule.  I 
think  the  seeking  intellect,  when  focused  so  as  to  give 
definition  without  penumbral  haze,  is  sure  to  realize  this 
image  at  the  last.  .  .  .  The  waves  generated  in  the  ether 


1/6  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

by  the  swinging  atoms  of  luminous  bodies  are  of  different 
lengths  and  amplitudes.  The  amplitude  is  the  width  of 
swing  of  the  individual  particles  of  the  wave.  In  water 
waves  it  is  the  height  of  the  crest  above  the  trough,  while 
the  length  of  the  wave  is  the  distance  between  two  consec- 
utive crests." 

Many  persons  glibly  discuss  hypotheses  without  having 
thought  them  out  to  their  source  by  the  aid  of  images,  and 
hence  without  a  clear  idea  as  to  whither  the  theory  tends. 
In  the  same  way  as  in  the  case  of  sound  and  light,  Tyndall 
translates  the  evolution  hypothesis  into  the  most  definite 
images  of  which  it  is  capable.  He  says  :  "  Not  alone  the 
more  ignoble  forms  of  animalcular  or  animal  life,  not  alone 
the  nobler  forms  of  the  horse  and  lion,  not  alone  the 
exquisite  and  wonderful  mechanism  of  the  human  body, 
but  the  human  mind  itself — emotion,  intellect,  will,  and 
all  their  phenomena — were  once  latent  in  a  fiery  cloud. 
.  .  .  All  our  philosophy,  all  our  poetry,  all  our  science, 
and  all  our  art — Plato,  Shakespeare,  Newton,  and  Raphael 
—  are  potential  in  the  fires  of  the  sun."  One  can  reject 
or  accept  such  a  hypothesis  much  more  intelligently  after 
he  has  resolved  the  nebula  into  its  potential  images. 

The  Formation  of  an  Ideal. —  This  necessary  product  of 
the  imagination  gives  excellent  culture.  The  young  take 
no  more  important  step  than  when  they  frame  an  ideal 
which  they  will  ever  strive  to  attain.  The  first  step  con- 
sists in  studying  the  lives  of  illustrious  men,  to  ascertain 
what  constitutes  a  noble  and  glorious  life,  to  see  how  ob- 
stacles are  surmounted,  how  eminence  is  gained.  The 
next  step  is  to  select  the  most  worthy  attributes  and  to 
embody  them  in  an  ideal  which  is  peculiarly  fitted  to  the 
constructor.  Each  one  may  thus  construct  for  himself  a 


THE  IMAGINATION   AND   ITS  CULTURE.  177 

life  chart  as  an  ideal.  Something  is  to  be  learned  from 
the  life  of  every  great  man.  Thus,  an  ideal  may  embody 
the  energy  of  a  Napoleon  ;  the  integrity  and  patriotism  of 
a  Washington;  the  iron  will  of  a  Cromwell;  the  sympathy 
with  humanity  of  a  Howard,  a  Clarkson,  or  of  a  greater 
One ;  the  ambition  of  a  Newton  or  a  Franklin  to  discover 
new  laws ;  the  inventive  genius  of  a  Watts,  a  Morse,  or 
an  Edison;  the  determination  of  a  blind  Milton  to  leave 
behind  something  worthy  of  himself,  which  posterity  would 
not  willingly  let  die. 

The  youth  who  has  not  had  his  imagination  fired  by 
great  deeds  will  not  amount  to  much.  Each  must  fashion 
for  himself  an  ideal  which  he  is  determined  to  attain. 
Emerson's  expression,  "  Hitch  your  wagon  to  a  star," 
meant  simply  this.  The  imagination  of  the  youthful 
Napoleon  was  animated  by  reading  the  deeds  of  great 
generals,  and  he  early  formed  the  ideal  of  doing  more  in 
the  military  field  than  had  ever  before  been  accomplished. 

Imagination  and  Sympathy. — It  is  just  beginning  to  be 
clearly  understood  that  unimaginative  people  cannot  be 
sympathetic.  In  order  to  sympathize  truly  with  another  in 
fortune,  misfortune,  or  suffering  of  any  kind,  we  must,  from 
the  suggestions  of  our  experience,  imagine  ourselves  in  his 
place.  The  experience  of  two  persons  is  never  exactly 
the  same.  In  order  to  sympathize  with  the  other,  the  one 
must,  perhaps  from  very  slight  suggestions  in  his  own  ex- 
perience, and  by  an  effort  of  the  constructive  imagination, 
put  himself  in  the  other's  place.  Persons  of  undoubted 
capacity  for  feeling  are  frequently  unsympathetic  and 
undesirable  to  live  with,  merely  because  imagination 
seldom  unlocks  the  door  to  feeling.  It  is  not  enough 
for  a  thirsty  traveler  that  there  is  water  at  the  bottom 
HALLECK'S  PSYC.  — 12 


f/8  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 

of  a  deep  well ;   there  must  be  means   of  drawing  that 
water. 

Nor  is  it  enough  that  a  person  has  strong  emotional 
tendencies  in  the  direction  of  sympathy;  there  must  be 
some  means  of  drawing  from  that  emotional  fountain. 
Imagination  can  furnish  the  means.  If  one  would  sym- 
pathize with  the  sick  and  suffering  poor,  he  must  first  go 
among  them  ;  then  his  imagination  will  fit  the  materials  of 
perception  to  his  own  case.  A  child  can  rarely  sympathize 
deeply  with  old  people,  because  he  has  had  little  commu- 
nity of  experience  with  them.  On  the  other  hand,  imagi- 
native old  people  can  sympathize  deeply  with  him,  although 
their  disappointments  and  pleasures  may  have  been  only 
remotely  akin  to  his. 

^•N   ^ 

Abuse  of  the  Imagination.  —  From  its  very  nature  the 
imagination  is  peculiarly  liable  to  abuse.  The  common 
practices  of  daydreaming  or  castle-building  are  both 
morally  and  physically  unhealthful.  We  reach  actual  suc- 
cess in  life  by  slow,  weary  steps.  The  daydreamer  attains 
.eminence  with  one  bound.  He  is  without  trouble  a  vic- 
torious general  on  a  vast  battlefield,  an  orator  swaying 
thousands,  a  millionaire  with  every  amusement  at  his 
command,  a  learned  man  confounding  the  wisest,  a  presi- 
dent, an  emperor,  or  a  czar.  After  reveling  in  these 
imaginative  sweets,  the  dry  bread  of  actual  toil  becomes 
exceedingly  distasteful.  It  is  so  much  easier  to  live  in 
regions  where  everything  comes  at  the  stroke  of  the 
magic  wand  of  fancy.  Not  infrequently  these  castle- 
builders  abandon  effort  in  an  actual  world.  Success  comes 
too  slow  for  them.  They  become  speculators  or  gamblers, 
and,  in  spite  of  all  their  grand  castles,  gradually  sink  into 
utter  nonentities  in  the  world  of  action. 


THE  IMAGINATION  AND  ITS  CULTURE.  179 

The  reading  of  too  much  fiction  is  dangerous.  The 
impossible  stories  that  have  been  sown  broadcast  over  the 
land  have  wrecked  many  a  young  life.  From  their  teach- 
ing, young  persons  have  imagined  that  they  could  dream 
themselves  into  success.  It  has  been  well  said  that  even 
novels  of  the  better  class  are  sweets,  and  should  form  no 
greater  proportion  of  our  reading  than  do  sweets  of  our 
diet.  The  young  should  never  allow  themselves  to  build 
any  imaginative  castle,  unless  they  are  willing  by  hard 
effort  to  try  to  make  that  castle  a  reality.  They  must  be 
willing  to  take  off  their  coats,  go  into  the  quarries  of  life, 
chisel  out  the  blocks  of  stone,  and  build  them  with  much 
toil  into  the  castle  walls.  If  castle-building  is  merely  the 
formation  of  an  ideal,  which  we  show  by  our  effort  that  we 
are  determined  to  attain,  then  all  will  be  well 


\ 

The  Power  of  Thought. —  The  human  mind  can  perceive, 
remember,  and  imagine.  Fortunately,  it  can  also  think. 
What  is  it  to  think  ?  To  think  is  to  compare  things  with 
each  other,  to  notice  wherein  they  agree  and  differ,  and  to 
classify  them  according  to  these  agreements  and  differences. 
It  enables  us  to  put  into  a  few  classes  the  billions  of  things 
that  strike  our  perceptive  faculties ;  to  tie  things  with  like 
qualities  into  a  bundle  by  themselves,  and  to  infer  that 
what  is  true  of  one  of  these  things  will  be  true  of  the 
others  without  actual  experience  in  each  individual  case ; 
and  to  introduce  law  and  order  into  what  at  first  seemed  a 
mass  of  chaotic  materials. 

We  might  suppose  a  man  to  be  created  full  grown  at 
birth,  and  to  be  placed  on  a  new  planet.  If  he  touched  a 
bee  and  was  stung,  he  would  be  apt  to  remember  the 
appearance  of  the  insect.  When  he  saw  another  insect,  he 
would  be  likely  to  compare  it  with  his  mental  image  of  the 
bee.  If  he  noticed  a  resemblance  and  avoided  the  insect, 
he  would  think.  If  he  noticed  the  difference  between  bees 
and  flies  and  concluded  that  it  was  not  necessary  for  him 
to  be  so  careful  about  disturbing  flies,  he  would  have  carried 
the  thought  process  still  further.  If  a  man  had  no  power 
of  thought,  being  stung  once  would  not  answer  ;  he  might 
rush  into  a  swarm  of  bees  and  be  blinded  or  killed.  It  is 

i  So 


THOUGHT.  l8l 


by  thinking  that  men   have  learned  to  avoid  poison  ivy, 
centipedes,  snakes,  late  hours,  foul  air,  dissipated  habits. 

is  rnnsf-anf-ly  iicing  hf»r  pnwpr  tr>  kill  off-tbe- t-hought- 


less,  or  to  cripple  them  in  liff't  T7T      She  is  determined 


that  only  the  fittest  and  the  descendants  of  the  fittest  shall 
survive.  By  the  "  fittest "  she  means  those  who  have 
thought  and  whose  ancestors  have  thought  and  profited 
_thereby. 

Geologists  tell  us  that  ages  ago  there  lived  in  England 
bears,  tigers,  elephants,  lions,  and  many  other  powerful 
and  fierce  animals.  There  was  living  contemporaneous 
with  them  a  much  weaker  animal,  that  had  neither  the 
claws,  the  strength,  nor  the  speed  of  the  tiger.  In  fact 
this  human  animal  was  almost  defenseless.  Had  a  being 
from  another  planet  been  asked  to  prophesy,  he  would 
undoubtedly  have  said  that  this  helpless  animal  would  be 
the  first  to  be  exterminated.  And  yet  every  one  of  those 
fierce  creatures  has  succumbed  either  to  the  change  of 
climate,  or  to  man's  inferior  strength.  The  reason  was  that 
manjiad  one  resource  denied  to  the  animals,  the  power  pf 
progressive-  .thought  The  land  sank,  the  sea  cut  off  Eng- 
land from  'the  mainland,  the  climate  changed,  and  even  the 
strongest  animals  were  helpless.  But  man  changed  his 
clothing  with  the  changing  climate.  He  made  fires  ;  he 
built  a  retreat  to  keep  off  death  by  cold.  He  thought  out 
means  to  kill  or  to  subdue  the  strongest  animals. 

Had  the  lions,  tigers,  or  bears  possessed  the  power  of 
progressive  thought,  they  could  have  combined,  and  it 
would  have  been  possible  for  them  to  exterminate  man 
before  he  reached  the  civilized  stage.  The  swallow  builds 
her  nest  now  as  she  built  it  a  thousand  years  ago.  The 
beaver  has  not  improved  in  the  construction  of  his  home. 
Man  no  longer  sleeps  in  caves.  The  smoke  no  longer  fills 


1 82  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

his  home  or  finds  its  way  out  through  the  chinks  in  the 
walls  or  a  hole  in  the  roof.  In  traveling,  he  is  no  longer 
restricted  to  his  feet  or  even  to  horses.  For  all  this 
improvement  man  is  indebted  to  thought.  That  has  har- 
nessed the  very  vibrations  of  the  ether  to  do  his  bidding. 

The  Thinking  Power  Active  from  the  First. — It  was 
formerly  supposed  that  human  beings  did  not  think  early 
in  life ;  that  then  they  perceived  and  remembered  ;  that 
after  they  had  seen  and  treasured  up  a  great  deal,  they  be- 
gan to  think.  These  processes  were  considered  to  be  as 
sharply  marked  off  from  each  other  as  the  Dead  Sea  and 
the  ocean.  We  now  know  that  n.o..one  caaperceive  without 
tJiinldng_at-th^5ameJirne.  In  perceiving  a  complex  object, 
such  as  a  house,  a  ship,  or  a  tree,  we  are  constantly  divid- 
ing it  into  parts  and  discriminating  between  them.  We 
discriminate  between  the  doors  ancl  the  chimneys,  the 
leaves  and  the  branches,  the  sails  and  the  masts.  If  we 
perceive  any  simple  thing  definitely,  e.g.  a  bird  perched  on 
a  post,  we  must  distinguish  between  the  bird  and  the  post, 
or  between  the  bird  and  other  things,  or  we  do  not  really 
perceive  the  bird. 

Again,  in  remembering,  we  must  think,  in  order  to  dis- 
criminate between  different  mental  images.  If  we  are 
asked  to  describe  two  fine  houses  on  opposite  corners  of 
an  avenue,  we  must  summon  the  images  and  compare  them. 
One  house  has  a  bay  window,  the  other  none.  If  we  mis- 
took the  image  of  one  thing  for  another,  our  memories 
would  be  worthy  of  no  trust.  This  power  of  discrimina- 
tion is  due  to  thought.  An  educated  person  in  recalling 
the  Latin  words  annus  and  servus,  or  the  German  word 
Baunty  is  apt  to  recall  and  compare  the  English  words 
annual,  servile,  beam. 


THOUGHT. 


I83 


In  imaginative  productions  that  amount  to  anything, 
thought  must  work  vigorously.  When  the  sculptor  starts 
to  chisel  out  a  statue  of  Hebe  or  Venus,  he  must  continually 
consider  the  relations  of  the  different,  parts  to  each  other. 
One  arm  must  correspond  in  size  and  length  to  the  other. 
The  features  must  be  in  harmony.  There  must  be  a  certain 
correspondence  between  the  statue  and  an  actual  woman. 
Thought  is  called  in  at  every  step  in  order  to  make  com- 
parisons. When  a  bridge  is  to  be  built,  the  imagination  in 
throwing  it  across  the  chasm  must  be  guided  by  thought, 
which  declares  what  is  possible.  The  same  is  true  in  the 
case  of  an  inventor. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  must  be  remembered  that  thought^ 
is  the  la§t  of  the  menial-  powers  to  come  to  its  full  matur- 
ity.   Memory  often  shows  undoubted  signs  of  failing  vigor, 
while  thought  is  still  advancing  in  strength.  __J 

I.  THE  CONCEPT. 

First  Step  in  Thinking.  —  In  describing  the  various 
steps  leading  to  a  finished  product  of  thought,  we  must 
remember  that  they  are  not  sharply  defined  in  actual  think- 
ing. In  order  to  get  a  clear  idea  of  the  thought  process, 
and  avoid  confusion,  we  are  compelled  to  separate  certain 
elements  for  study.  We  do  the  same  thing  in  studying 
trees,  plants,  insects,  architecture,  or  any  form  of  matter. 
A  concept  is  formed  in  the  following  manner :  — 
(i)  There  must  first  be  presentation  of  materials.  Sup- 
pose we  wish  to  form  the  concept  fruit.  We  must  first 
perceive  the  different  kinds  of  fruit,  —  cherry,  pear,  quince, 
plum,  currant,  apple,  fig,  orange,  etc.  Before  we  can  take 
the  next  step,  we  must  be  able  to  form  distinct  and  accurate 
images  of  the  various  kinds  of  fruit.  If  the  concept  is  to  be 


1 84  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 

absolutely  accurate,  not  one  kind  of  fruit  must  be  oven 
looked.  Practically,  this  is  impossible ;  but  many  kinds 
should  be  examined.  Where  perception  is  inaccurate  and 
stinted,  the  products  of  thought  cannot  be  trustworthy. 
No  building  is  firm  if  reared  on  insecure  foundations. 

(2)  The  second  step  consists  in  comparing  different  indi- 
viduals and  in  noting  wherein  they  agree  or  differ.     For 
instance,  in  the  case  of  the  currant  and  the  gooseberry, 
we  must  compare  their  flavor,  size,  appearance,  manner  of 
growth,   seeds.     We   may  next   compare   the   strawberry 
with  the  blackberry,  the  pear  with  the  peach,  the  grape 
with  the  plum.     We  shall  in  this  way  have  the  likenesses 
and  differences  brought  out  vividly. 

(3)  The  process  of  abstraction  must  next  be  employed. 
Fruits  have  many  confusing  qualities  of  size,  color,  shape, 
seed,  skin,  etc.     We  do  not  wish  to  have  size  enter  into 
our  general  idea  or  concept  of  fruit,  so  we  abstract  (ab, 
away   from ;    traho,   draw)    size,   color,    etc.,    since    these 
qualities  differ  so  vastly  in  different  fruits.     The  currant 
and   the   lemon,  the   grape  and  the  peach,  have  little  in 
common  in  regard  to  either  size  or  color.     We  abstract 
or  draw  off  all  qualities  not  common  to  the  class  under 
consideration,    since   the   concept   must    be   made   up   of 
common  qualities.      By  abstraction  we  also  draw  off  the 
like   qualities   by   themselves   for   consideration.     In    the' 
case  of  fruit,  the  juiciness  and  nutritive   properties,  for 
instance,  would  be  retained,  together  with  the  distinctive 
properties  of  production  from  a  flower  and  of  containing 
seed.     In  the  process  of  abstraction,  we  draw  our  attention 
away  from  a  mass  of  confusing  details,  unimportant  at  the 
time,  and  attend  only  to  qualities  common  to  the  class. 
Abstraction   is   little   else   than    centering  the  power  of 
attention  on  some  qualities  to  the  exclusion  of  others. 


THOUGHT.  I8C 

v  3 


(4)  The  next  step  is  generalization.     We  put  all  objects 
having  like  qualities  into  a  certain  genus,  or  class.     When 
the  objects  are  in*  that  class,  we  know  that  certain  qualities 
will  have  general  application  to  them  all.     We  thus  know 
that  all  fruits  will  have  certain  common  qualities,  which  at 
once  mark  them  off  from  the  mineral  or  the  animal  kingdom 
and  from  other  vegetable  products. 

(5)  Lastly,  we  affix  a  name  to  the  class.     This  is  called 
denomination,  or  marking  off  by  a  name.     The  name  is 
analogous  to  a  string  which   ties  together  a  number  of 
things  ;  or  it  is  like  a  druggist's  label,  which  enables  him 
to  tell  at  a  glance  what  each  bottle  contains.     We  use 
the  names  like  the  algebraic  symbols  x  and  y.     We  are 
thus  able   to   reason  with  great  rapidity,  and   to   have  a 
greater  number  of  concepts  pass  more  quickly  before  the 
field  of  our  mental  vision.     By  algebraic  formulas  we  can 
solve  problems,  which  it  would  be  impossible  for  us  to  carry 
in  our  heads  or  solve  without  the  aid  of  symbols.     Words 
stand  in  the  same  relation  to  thought. 

Method  of  Forming  Concepts  in  Actual  Life.  —  A  child 
sees  a  certain  object  frequently  and  hears  the  term  "  man  " 
applied  to  it.  The  child  will  first  form  its  concept  on  an 
insufficient  foundation  of  perception.  If  the  men  that  he 
sees  in  his  own  home  all  have  beards,  the  child  will  think 
that  having  whiskers  or  a  moustache  is  a  quality  necessary 
to  man,  and  the  concept  will  include  that.  Should  the 
7child  at  first  see  only  red-haired  men  six  feet  tall,  those 
qualities  would  go  into  the  concept  man.  As  acquaintance 
with  human  beings  extended,  the  child  would  abstract  the 
beard,  color  of  hair,  and  height  fromx  the  concept.  In 
comparing  a  smooth-faced  man,  a  shorn;  'man,  a  tall  man,  a 
red-haired  and  a  white-haired  man,  the  child  would  soon-.. 


1 86  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

notice  a  sufficient  number  of  common  qualities  to  put  all 
in  one  class. 

A  certain  Norwegian  child  ten  years  old  had  the  quality 
white,  firmly  imbedded  in  his  concept  man.  Happening 
one  day  to  see  a  negro  for  the  first  time,  the  child  refused 
to  call  him  a  man,  until  the  negro's  other  qualities  com- 
pelled the  child  to  revise  his  concept  and  to  eliminate  white- 
ness. If  that  child  should  ever  see  an  Indian  or  a  China- 
man, the  concept  would  undergo  still  further  revision.  A 
girl  of  six,  reared  with  an  intemperate  father  and  brothers, 
had  the  quality  of  drunkenness  firmly  fixed  in  her  concept 
of  man.  A  certain  boy  kept,  until  the  age  of  eleven,  trust- 
worthiness in  his  concept  of  man.  Another  boy,  until  late 
in  his  teens,  thought  that  man  was  a  creature  who  did 
wrong  not  from  determination  but  from  ignorance ;  that 
any  man  would  change  his  course  to  the  right  path,  if  he 
could  only  understand  that  he  was  going  wrong.  Happen- 
ing one  day  to  hear  of  a  wealthy  man  who  was  neglecting 
to  provide  comforts  for  his  aged  mother  in  her  last  sick- 
ness, the  boy  concluded  that  the  man  did  not  know  the 
mother's  condition.  When  he  informed  the  man,  the  boy 
was  told  to  mind  his  own  business.  The  same  day  he 
heard  of  some  politicians  who  had  intentionally  cheated 
the  city  in  letting  a  contract,  and  he  immediately  revised 
his  concept. 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  most  of  our  con- 
cepts are  subject  to  change  during  our  entire  life;  that 
at  first  they  are  made  only  in  a  tentative  way ;  that  expe- 
rience may  show  us,  at  any  time,  that  they  have  been 
erroneously  formed,  that  we  have  abstracted  too  little 
or  too  much,  made  the  class  too  wide  or  too  narrow, 
or  that  here  a  quality  must  be  added  or  there  one  taken 


OJ 


O&AL} 


THOUGHT.  187 

Difference   between  a  Concept  and   an   Image.  —  It  is 

always  difficult  for  those  who  have  paid  little  attention 
to  mental  processes,  to  understand,  at  first,  why  an  image 
cannot  be  formed  of  a  concept.  An  irnag'*  possesses  the 
fmalffifiS  and  f^Mlinriti^R  of  a"  iy"UlidiiiL^hifr**  If  a 
certain  man  has  an  aquiline  nose,  black  hair,  bushy  eye- 
brows, and  a  scar  on  his  cheek,  all  these  peculiarities 
must  appear  when  memory  recalls  an  image  of  him.  It 
is  impossible  to  image  anything  without  giving  that  image 
individual  marks. 

The  best  mental  images  are  so  definite  that  a  picture 
could  be  painted  from  them.  A  being  might  come  under 
the  class  man  and  have  a  snub  nose,  blonde  hair,  scanty 
eyebrows,  and  no  scar  on  his  face.  The  presence  of  one 
of  these  individual  peculiarities  in  the  concept  man  would 
destroy  it.  If  we  form  an  image  of  an  apple,  it  must  be 
either  of  a  yellow,  red,  green,  or  russet  apple,  either  as 
large  as  a  pippin  or  as  small  as  a  crab  apple.  A  boy  was 
asked  what  he  thought  of  when  "  apple  "  was  mentioned. 
He  replied  that  he  thought  of  "a  big,  dark-red  apple  with 
a  bad  spot  on  one  side,  near  the  top."  That  boy  could 
image  distinctly,  but  his  power  of  forming  concepts  was 
still  in  its  infancy. 

^An  image  must  contain  the  individual  qualities  of  an 
object ;  a  concept  must  embody  only  those  qualities  com- 
mon to  the  entire  class.  We  may  put  in  our  concept  man 
the  qualities  of  progressive  reasoning,  of  being  able  to 
improve  his  condition  from  age  to  age,  of  using  a  highly 
developed  language,  of  mastering  nature  to  an  extent 
equaled  by  no  other  animal.  These  qualities  are  a  mark 
of  the  entire  class,  while  a  brown  eye  or  a  large  mouth  are 
marks  of  certain  individuals  only. 

We  should  in  all  cases  be  ready  to  translate  our  con- 


1 88  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 

cepts,  when  occasion  requires,  into  the  images  of  those 
individuals  which  the  concept  represents.  A  concept 
means  nothing  except  in  reference  to  certain  individu- 
als. Without  them,  it  could  never  have  had  existence,  and 
they  are  entitled  to  representation.  ^A_man  whn  rannoj 
tran44ftte— bls^rnnrepts  into  (jefinifp  imagp^  of  fhp  prnppr 
abjeets-isjrtted  neither  to  teach,  preach,  nor  practice  any 
profession.  fTp-^hmTlfj^wa^fp  a<t  li<-i-1p_as_possible  of  the 
tim':>-t4-hiR  follow  m^rtnln  in  talking  ^  «-Kf>.m  There  was, 
not  long  ago,  a  man  very  fond  of  talking  about  fruit  in 
the  abstract ;  but  he  failed  to  recognize  an  individual  cran- 
berry when  it  was  shown  him.  A  humorist  remarked  that 
a  certain  metaphysician  had  such  love  for  abstractions,  and 
such  intense  dislike  for  concrete  things,  as  to  refuse  to 
eat  a  concrete  peach  when  placed  before  him.  A  person 
should  not  talk  about  historic  chivalry  in  the  abstract 
unless  he  can  describe  in  the  concrete  the  figures  and 
armor  of  the  knights,  their  castles,  and  their  habits  in 
peace  and  in  war. 

Abstract  Ideas.  — While  we  are  forming  concepts,  we 
abstract  or  draw  off  certain  qualities,  either  to  leave  them 
out  of  view  or  to  consider  them  by  themselves.  Our  dic- 
tionaries contain  such  words  as  purity,  sweetness,  white- 
ness, industry,  courage.  No  one  ever  touched,  tasted, 
smelled,  heard,  or  saw  purity  or  courage.  We  do  not, 
therefore,  gain  our  knowledge  of  those  through  the  senses. 
We  have  seen  pure  persons,  pure  snow,  pure  honey ;  we 
have  breathed  pure  air,  tasted  pure  coffee.  From  all  these 
different  objects  we  have  abstracted  the  only  like  quality, 
the  quality  of  being  pure.  We  then  say  we  have  an  idea 
of  purity,  and  that  idea  is  an  abstract  one.  It  exists  only 
in  and  for  the  mind  which  formed  it.  No  one  ever  saw 


^ 

iSjo-    \3Uic<iO 


THOUGHT.  189 

whiteness.  He  may  have  seen  white  clouds,  snow,  cloth, 
blossoms,  houses,  paper,  horses,  but  he  never  saw  white- 
ness by  itself.  He  simply  abstracted  that  quality  from 
various  white  objects. 

The  difference  between  an  abstract  idea  and  a  concept  is 
that  a.^mc£pJLjnajLjnnsist  nf  -a^  bundle,  nf  abstract  id«as. 
If  the  class  contains  more  than  one  common  quality,  so  must 
the  concept ;  it  must  contain  as  many  of  these  abstracted 
qualities  as  are  common  to  the  class.  The  concept  of  the 
class  whale  would  embody  a  large  number  of  such  qualities. 

Abstract  Ideas  Conditioned  by  Experience.  —  The  South- 
Sea  Islander's  idea  of  purity  is  far  different  from  that  of 
the  Anglo-Saxon.     The  idea  of  piety  of  either  the  Pagan    ' 
or  the  Moslem  differs  from  that  of  the  Christian.     The 
Irish  peasant's  idea  of  cleanliness  is  not  the  same  as  that 
of  the  graduates  of  medical  colleges.     Our  ideas  of  any'^AJjxv 
abstract  quality  will  differ  as  our  experience  differs.     Con-     (. 
trast  the  Indian's  ideas  of  finery  with  those  of  a  refinedj 
Caucasian.     Since  the  abstract  ideas  differ,  the  concepts  "^L 
will  also  differ.     It  would  be  interesting  to  compare  the  J    if. 
different  concepts  of  home  which  exist  in  the  minds  of         **  , 
the  Eskimo,  the  Fiji  Islander,  the  Indian,  the  Hottentot, 
and  the  Saxon.      A  street  gamin  was  asked  his  idea  of 
home,  and  he  replied,  "A  big  dry-goods  box  with  plenty  of 
rags  in  winter." 

Some  philosophers  might  say  that  these  are  not  instances 
of  perfect  abstract  ideas  or  concepts.  The  proper  reply  is 
that  it  is  sometimes  wise  to  study  things  as  they  exist, 
and  not  always  as  they  ought  to  be.  It  is  of  the  utmost 
importance  for  us  to  notice  the  difference  in  the  abstract 
ideas  and  concepts  of  individuals;  otherwise  we  shall  be 
puzzled  to  account  for  the  divergence  of  thought  in  dif- 


IQO  PSYCHOLOGY  AND  PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

ferent  people.  The  person  whose  concept  of  home  has 
been  formed  in  a  pleasant,  attractive  spot,  surrounded  by 
loving  relatives,  will  think  and  act  very  differently  from 
the  gamin  or  the  tramp,  when  anarchy  or  political  corrup- 
tion threatens  the  existence  of  homes  in  general. 

Intension  and  Extension.  —  If  we  are  asked  what  occurs 
to  us  when  the  term  "bird  "  is  mentioned,  we  may  give  two 
different  answers,  according  as  we  consider  the  meaning 
of  the  term  in  intension  or  extension.     If  we  reply  that  a 
bird  is  an  oviparous  animal  possessed  of  certain  qualities, 
and  if  we  think  of  the  feathers,  the  structure  of  the  bones 
and  the  stomac'i,  and  the  manner  of  locomotion,  we  are 
thinking  of  the  qualities  which  birds  possess.     Intension  * 
considers   only  those   qualities  which   are  common  to  a  ^ 
class. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  there  come  to  mind  the  robin, 
swallow,  catbird,  thrush,  crow,  hawk,  canary,  magpie,  etc., 
we  are  thinking  of  the  different  individuals  to  which  the 
term  "bird"  is  applicable.  Extension  has  reference  to  all 


individuals  denoted  by  any  class  name,  and  not  to  their 
common  qualities. 

In  the  formation  of  a  concept  we  notice  that,  as  we 
narrow  the  class,  the  more  qualities  do  we  have  to  put 
into  the  concept.  When  we  form  a  concept  answering  to 
animal,  we  can  put  very  few  qualities  into  that,  because 
very  few  are  common  to  all  animals.  We  cannot  include 
the  attribute  "having  a  backbone,"  because  oysters  have 
none;  nor  "having  feet,"  because  worms  have  none;  nor 
"  having  ears,"  because  it  is  doubtful  if  mollusks  have  any. 
When  we  form  a  concept  of  one  species  of  animal,  e.g. 
horse,  the  common  qualities  are  far  more  numerous.  All 
the  qualities  found  in  the  concept  animal  must  also  be 


<^o. 

THOUGHT.  IQI 

found  in  horse.  In  addition  to  these  we  have  many  other 
qualities  common  to  horses,  such  as  having  four  feet,  solid 
hoofs,  teeth,  a  hairy  skin,  a  backbone,  ears,  eyes,  etc. 

As  the  intension  of  a  term  increases,  the  extension 
decreases ;  and  as  the  extension  increases,  the  intension 
decreases.  We  can  see  the  truth  of  this  general  law  in 
the  example  we  have  just  considered.  Animal  is  very 
narrow  in  intension,  very  broad  in  extension.  There  are 
few  qualities  common  to  all  animals,  but  there  is  a  vast 
number  of  animals.  To  give  the  full  meaning  of  the  term 
in  extension,  we  should  have  to  name  every  animal,  from 
the  microscopic  infusoria  to  the  tiger,  from  the  angleworm 
to  the  whale.  When  we  decrease  the  extension  to  one 
species  of  animal,  horse,  the  individuals  are  fewer,  the 
qualities  more  numerous.  When  we  are  at  the  stage  of 
comparison  in  forming  concepts,  we  are  concerned  with 
intension  alone ;  when  we  are  generalizing  or  classifying, 
we  are  also  concerned  with  the  extension  of  the  term. 


II.   JUDGMENT. 

Second  Step  in  Thinking. — When  we  have  two  con- 
cepts, we  proceed  to  compare  them,  and  to  decide  whether 
they  agree.  This  process  is  called  judgment.  For  this  act 
there  must  be  two  concepts,  and  agreement  or  disagree- 
ment must  be  asserted  to  exist  between  them  after  the 
proper  comparison  has  been  made.  We  have  the  concept 
horse  and  the  concept  animal.  We  compare  them  and 
decide  that  they  agree.  A  horse  is  an  animal.  That  state- 
ment embodies  a  positive  judgment.  We  may  compare  the 
concept  of  horse  and  zebra  and  notice  that  they  disagree. 
A  horse  is  not  a  zebra.  This  is  a  negative  judgment. 

Judgment  is  necessary  in  forming  concepts.     When  we 


192  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 

decide  that  a  quality  is,  or  is  not,  common  to  a  class,  we  are 
really  judging.  This  is  another  evidence  of  the  complexity 
and  unified  action  of  the  mind. 

The  process  of  judgment  is  always  a  choice  between 
two,  and  only  twor  alternatives  at  any -gi^en  tjrjie  If  we 
have  the  concept  si  panther  and  of  the  genus  fe 'Us  before 
our  minds,  we  must  decide  that  the  panther  either  belongs, 
or  does  not  belong,  to  the  cat  tribe.  The  boy  who  is  pon- 
dering over  a  captured  bat  must  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  a  bat  either  is,  or  is  not,  a  bird. 

Were  isolated  concepts  possible,  they  would  be  of  very 
little  use.  Isolated  facts  are  of  no  more  service  than 
unspun  wool.  We  might  have  a  concept  of  a  certain 
class  of  three-leaved  ivy,  as  we  might  also  of  poisons. 
Unless  judgment  linked  these  two  concepts  and  decided 
that  this  species  of  ivy  is  poisonous,  we  might  take  hold 
of  it  and  be  poisoned.  We  might  have  a  concept  of 
bread,  and  also  one  of  meat,  fruits,  and  vegetables.  If  we 
also  had  a  concept  of  food,  unrelated  to  these,  we  should 
starve  to  death,  for  we  should  not  think  of  them  as  foods. 
A  vessel,  supposing  itself  far  out  at  sea,  signaled  another 
vessel  that  the  crew  were  dying  of  thirst.  That  crew 
certainly  had  a  concept  of  drinkable  things  and  also  of 
water.  To  the  surprise  of  the  first,  the  second  vessel  sig- 
naled back,  "Draw  from  the  sea  and  drink.  You  are  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Amazon."  The  thirsty  crew  had  not  joined 
the  concept  drinkable  to  the  concept  of  the  water  over  the 
ship's  side.  A  man  having  taken  an  overdose  of  laudanum, 
his  wife  lost  much  valuable  time  in  sending  out  for  anti- 
dotes, because  certain  of  her  concepts  had  not  been  con- 
nected by  judgment.  She  had  good  concepts  of  coffee 
and  of  mustard ;  she  also  knew  that  an  antidote  to  opium 
was  needed ;  but  she  had  never  linked  these  concepts  and 


THOUGHT.  193 

judged  that  coffee  and  mustard  are  antidotes  to  opium. 
The  moment  she  formed  that  judgment  she  was  a  wiser 
woman,  for  her  knowledge  was  related  and  usable^ 

Why  Judgments  are  Often  Difficult  to  Form.  —  In  actual 
life  things  present  themselves  to  us  with  their,  qualities 
disguised  or  obscured  by  other  conflicting  qualities.  Men 
had  for  ages  seen  burning  substances  and  had  formed  a 
concept  of  them.  A  certain  hard,  black,  stony  substance 
had  often  been  noticed,  and  a  concept  had  been  formed 
of  it.  This  concept  was  imperfect ;  but  it  is  very  seldom 
that  we  meet  with  perfect,  sharply  defined  concepts  in 
actual  life.  So  it  happened  that  for  ages  the  concept  of 
burning  substance  was  never  linked  by  judgment  to  the 
concept  of  stone  coal.  The  combustible  quality  in  the  coal 
was  overshadowed  by  its  stony  attributes.  "Of  course, 
stone  will  not  burn,"  people  said.  One  cannot  tell  how 
long  the  development  of  mankind  was  retarded  for  that 
very  reason.  England  would  not  to-day  be  manufactur- 
ing products  for  the  rest  of  the  world,  had .  not  some  one 
jjudged  coal  to  be  a  combustible  substance. 

The  Grecians  had  a  concept  of  electricity,  but  its  quali- 
ties were  overshadowed  by  the  more  apparent  ones  of 
amber,  in  which  the  Grecians  first  noticed  electrical  phe- 
nomena. At  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century,  the 
most  acute  thinkers  had  not  conceived  of  electricity  as 
force  resident  in  vibrations  of  the  ether.  It  took  geniuses 
in  judging  to  conceive  of  electricity  as  a  power  capable  of 
drawing  cars,  of  moving  machinery,  of  lighting  cities,  and 
of  carrying  messages  across  the  ocean.  Since  the  concept 
of  electricity  has  been  linked  to  the  concept  of  a  force, 
or  the  product  of  a  force,  applicable  to  almost  any  purpose, 
the  world  has  been  revolutionized. 


IQ4.  PSYCHOLOGY  AND  PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

? 

Judgment  is  the  power  revolutionizing  the  world.  The 
revolution  is  slow  because  nature's  forces  are  so  complex, 
so  hard  to  be  reduced  to  their  simplest  forms,  and  so  dis- 
guised and  neutralized  by  the  presence  of  other  forces. 

The  progress  of  the  next  hundred  years  will  join  many 
concepts,  which  now  seem  to  have  no  common  qualities, 
ilf  the  vast  amount  of  energy  latent  in  the  sunbeams,  in 
the  rays  of  the  stars,  in  the  winds,  in  the  rising  and  fall- 
ing of  the  tides,  is  treasured  up  and  applied  to  human 
purposes,  it  will  be  a  fresh  triumph  for  judgment.  This 
world  is  rolling  around  in  a  universe  of  energy,  of  which 
judgment  has  as  yet  harnessed  only  the  smallest  appre- 
ciable fraction.  Fortunately,  judgment  is  ever  silently 
working  and  comparing  things  that,  to  past  ages,  have 
seemed  dissimilar;  and  it  is  continually  abstracting  and 
leaving  out  of  the  field  of  view  those  qualities  whichfhave 
simply  served  to  obscure  the  point  at  issue. 

III.   REASONING. 

Third  Step  in  Thinking. — As  in  judgment  we  compare 
two  concepts  and  decide  that  they  agree  or  differ,  so  in 
reasoning  we  compare  two  judgments.  From  this  com- 
parison we  draw  a  third  judgment,  thus  completing  the 
process  of  reasoning.  If  we  saw  red-hot  irons  lying  on  a 
blacksmith's  anvil,  we  should  not  pick  them  up,  because,  at 
some  previous  time,  we  had  gone  through  with  the  follow* 
ing  chain  of  reasoning  :  — 

All  red-hot  substances  are  capable  of  burning. 
These  metals  are  red-hot  substances. 

Here   we   have   two   judgments.      First,  we   decide   that 
the  concept  of  red-hot  substances  agrees  with  the  concept 


of  things  capable  of  inflicting  a  burn.  Secondly,  we  j 
the  concept  of  the  metals  on  the  anvil  to  the  concept  of 
red-hot  substances.  We  now  have  two  concepts  agreeing 
with  the  same  third  concept,  and  hence  they  must  agree 
with  each  other.  Capable  of  burning  agrees  with  red-hot 
substances.  These  metals  agree  with  red-hot  substances. 
Hence  we  form  our  third  judgment  :  These  metals  are 
capable  of  burning.  This  is  a  positive  judgment  deduced 
from  two  previous  judgments. 

If  we  were  in  doubt  as  to  whether  a  whale  was  a  fish, 
we  might  frame  two  judgments  of  this  kind :  — 

All  fish  are  cold-blooded  animals. 
A  whale  is  not  a  cold-blooded  animal. 

In  our  first  judgment  we  join  our  concept  of  fish  to 
our  concept  of  cold-blooded  animals.  Next,  we  compare 
the  concept  of  whales  with  the  concept  of  cold-blooded 
animals,  and  find  that  there  is  disagreement.  Now,  since 
we  have  the  concept  of  fish  agreeing,  and  the  concept 
of  whales  disagreeing,  with  the  same  third  concept,  cold- 
blooded animals,  these  concepts  cannot  agree  with  each 
other.  Hence,  we  say :  A  whale  is  not  a  fish.  This  is  a 
negative  judgment. 

Thinking,  therefore,  requires  three  processes  for  its  com- 
pletion :  (i)  the  formation  of  the  concept,  (2)  judgment, 
(3)  reasoning.  In  actual  thinking  these  three  processes 
are  frequently  consolidated  into  one  act. 

/ 

Inductive  Reasoning. —  Man  has  to  find  out  through  his 
own  experience,  or  that  of  others,  the  major  premises  from 
which  he  argues  or  draws  his  conclusions.  By  induction 
we  examine  what  seems  to  us  a  sufficient  number  of  indi- 
vidual cases.  We  then  conclude  that  the  rest  of  these 


196  PSYCHOLOGY   AND    PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

cases,  which  we  have  not  examined,  will  obey  the  same 
general  law.  The  judgment,  All  men  are  mortal,  was 
reached  by  induction.  It  was  observed  that  all  past 
generations  of  men  had  died,  and  this  fact  warranted  the 
conclusion  that  all  men  living  will  die.  We  make  that 
assertion  as  boldly  as  if  we  had  seen  them  all  die.  The 
premise,  All  cows  chew  the  cud,  was  laid  down  after  a 
certain  number  of  cows  had  been  examined.  If  we  were 
to  see  a  cow  twenty  years  hence,  we  should  expect  to  find 
that  she  chewed  her  cud.  It  was  noticed  by  astronomers 
'.  that,  after  a  certain  number  of  days,  the  earth  regularly 
J  returned  to  the  same  position  in  its  orbit,  the  sun  rose 
in  the  same  place,  and  the  day  was  of  the  same  length. 
Hence,  the  length  of  the  year  and  of  each  succeeding  day 
was  determined,  and  the  almanac  maker  now  infers  that 
the  same  will  be  true  of  future  years.  He  tells  us  that 
the  sun  on  the  first  of  next  December  will  rise  at  a  given 
time,  although  he  cannot  throw  himself  into  the  future 
to  verify  the  conclusion. 

It  is  very  fortunate  that  the  human  mind  is  given  the 
faculty  of  inferring  the  existence  of  a  universal  law  from 
the  examination  of  a  certain  number  of  individual  phe- 
nomena. This  power,  like  all  other  powers,  is  attended 
with  danger,  but  if  we  were  compelled  to  test  each  new 
case  before  we  acted,  we  should  waste  the  most  of  our 
short  lives.  The  doctor  would  always  have  to  be  determin- 
ing the  action  of  the  same  remedies.  The  chemist  could 
not  be  sure  that  a  new  sample  of  water  could  be  resolved 
'  into  hydrogen  and  oxygen.  The  bridge  builder  could  not 
tell  in  advance  whether  steel  would  serve  for  its  construc- 
tion. The  only  way  to  find  out  whether  a  new  specimen 
of  red-hot  iron  would  burn  would  be  to  take  hold  of  it. 
To  ascertain  whether  arsenic  not  already  tested  would 


prove  poisonous,  we  should  have  to  swallow  it.  The  power 
of  inductive  reasoning  frees  us  from  these  necessities  and 
enables  us  to  travel  with  seven-league  boots  among  the 
facts  of  life. 

Perfect  and  Imperfect  Induction. — When  every  object 
concerning  which  a  statement  is  to  be  made  has  been  ex- 
amined, the  induction  is  perfect.  For  instance,  if  we  went 
to  a  certain  island  in  the  Baltic  Sea,  interviewed  every  j2&J  I 
inhabitant,  and  found  out  that  he  was  of  Teutonic  descent, 
our  induction  would  be  perfect.  If  we  examined  all  the 
factories  in  a  certain  town  and  found  that  all  were  engaged 
in  making  cotton  goods,  our  induction  would  be  perfect.  VM^  ' 
If  we  went  to  a  certain  home,  examined  all  the  inmates,  and  t^ 
found  them  to  be  retired  soldiers,  our  statement  that  none 
but  soldiers  are  admitted  to  the  privileges  of  that  home, 
would  be  founded  on  perfect  induction.  When  a  store- 
keeper knows  what  each  shelf  contains  ;  a  housewife,  what 
each  drawer  holds  ;  a  farmer,  what  crop  is  planted  in  each 
lot, — the  knowledge  is  based  on  perfect  induction.  There 
was  never  a  good  librarian,  stock  raiser,  farmer,  shop- 
keeper, chemist,  druggist,  housewife,  or  manufacturer, 
without  stores  of  knowledge  obtained  through  perfect 
induction,  or,  in  other  words,  without  some  definite 
knowledge  of  every  individual  object  standing  in  certain 
relations  to  the  owner  or  controller. 

Important  as  this  knowledge  is,  it  is  excelled  in  im- 
portance and  amount  by  inferences  from  imperfect  induc- 
tion. Whenever  we  make  a  statement,  such  as,  All  men 
are  mortal,  without  having  tested  each  individual  case, 
or,  in  other  words,  having  seen  every  man  die,  we  are 
reasoning  from  imperfe.r.t  induction.  Every  time  a  man 
buys  a  piece  of  beef,  a  bushel  jbl  potatoes,  or  a  loaf  of 


198  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

bread,  he  is  basing  his  action  on  inference  from  imperfect 
induction.  He  believes  that  the  beef,  potatoes,  and  bread 
will  prove  nutritious  food,  although  he  has  not  actually 
tested  those  special  edibles  before  purchasing  them.  They 
have  hitherto  been  found  to  be  nutritious  on  trial,  and 
he  argues  that  the  same  will  prove  true  of  these  special 
instances.  Whenever  a  man  takes  stock  in  a  new  national 
bank,  a  manufactory,  or  a  bridge,  he  is  arguing  from  past 
cases  that  this  special  investment  will  prove  profitable. 
We  instinctively  believe  in  the  uniformity  of  nature ;  if  we 
did  not,  we  should  not  consult  our  almanacs.  If  sufficient 
heat  will  cause  phosphorus  to  burn  to-day,  we  conclude 
that  the  same  results  will  follow  to-morrow,  if  the  circum- 
stances are  the  same. 

W"um<?  C^nGxwAttfVvQ  — 

The  Danger  in  .Hasty  Inference/—  Men  must  constantly 
employ  imperfect  induction  in  order  to  advance  ;  but  great 
dangers  attend  inductive  inferences  when  made  from  too 
narrow  experience.  A  child  has  experience  with  one  or  two 
dogs  at  his  home.  Because  of  their  gentleness,  he  argues 
that  all  dogs  are  gentle.  He  does  not,  perhaps,  find  out  the 
contrary  until  he  has  been  severely  bitten.  His  induction 
was  too  hasty.  He  had  not  tested  a  sufficiently  large 
number  of  dogs  to  form  such  a  conclusion.  From  one  or 
two  experiences  with  a  certain  crop  in  a  certain  latitude, 
a  farmer  may  argue  that  the  crop  will  generally  be  profit- 
able, whereas  it  may  not  again  prove  so  for  years.  A  man 
may  have  trusted  a  number  of  people  and  found  them 
honest.  He  concludes  that  people  as  a  rule  are  honest, 
trusts  a  certain  dishonest  man,  and  is  ruined. 

The  older  people  grow,  the  more  cautious  they  generally 
become  in  forming  inductive  conclusions.  Many  instances 
are  noted  and  compared  ;  but  even  the  wisest  sometimes 


THOUGHT.  199 

make  mistakes.  It  once  was  a  generally  accepted  fact 
that  all  swans  were  white.  Nobody  had  ever  seen  a 
dark  swan,  and  the  inference  that  all  were  white  was 
regarded  as  certainly  true.  Black  swans  were,  however, 
found  in  Australia. 

In  some  cases  the  examination  of  a  very  few  instances 
will  give  a  reasonably  certain  conclusion.  Within  certain 
limits  we  may,  roughly  speaking,  lay  down  the  following 
guiding  principle  :  Where  there  are  logical  reasons  for  the 
exact  similarity  of  a  new  instance  to  others  already  exam- 
ined, we  may  infer  the  similarity  quite  boldly,  although  we 
are  familiar  with  but  a  few  individuals  of  that  class.  From 
the  examination  of  a  few  cases  we  might  infer  that  all  men 
had  lungs.  There  is  a  logical  necessity  why  this  should 
prove  true.  If  the  interior  angles  of  one  triangle  are  equal 
to  two  right  angles,  we  may  infer  that  this  will  be  true  of 
all  triangles,  because  we  see  that  all  triangles  must  stand 
in  similar  relations  to  this  one. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  is  no  reason  why  a  swan 
should  be  white  rather  than  green  or  yellow  or  black. 
The  color  does  not  interfere  with  similarity  of  shape, 
structure,  and  habits.  We  might  infer  that  all  swans 
would  have  webbed  feet,  bills,  feathers,  etc.,  because  the 
absence  of  these  would  change  the  nature  of  the  fowl 
and  render  a  new  specimen  unlike  the  old  in  vital  points. 

^Comparison  and  search  for  similar  qualities  are  necessary 

(factors  in  all  reasoning. 

Deductive  Reasoning.  —  After  induction  has  classified 
certain  phenomena  and  thus  given  us  a  major  premise, 
we  proceed  deductively  to  apply  the  inference  to  any 
new  specimen  that  can  be  shown  to  belong  to  that  class. 
Induction  hands  over  to  deduction  a  ready-made  major 


20O  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 

premise,  e.g.  All  scorpions  are  dangerous.  Deduction  takes 
that  as  a  fact,  making  no  inquiry  about  its  truth.  When  a 
new  object  is  presented,  say  a  possible  scorpion,  the  only 
troublesome  step  is  to  decide  whether  the  object  is  really  a 
scorpion.  This  may  be  a  severe  task  on  judgment.  The 
average  inhabitant  of  the  temperate  zone  would  probably  not 
care  to  risk  a  hundred  dollars  on  his  ability  to  distinguish  a 
scorpion  from  a  centipede,  or  from  twenty  or  thirty  other 
creatures  bearing  some  resemblance  to  a  scorpion.  Here 
there  must  be  accurately  formed  concepts,  and  sound  judg- 
ment must  be  used  in  comparing  them.  As  soon  as  we 
decide  that  the  object  is  really  a  scorpion,  we  complete  the 
deduction  in  this  way:  — 

All  scorpions  are  dangerous. 
This  creature  is  a  scorpion. 
This  creature  is  dangerous. 

The  reasoning  of  early  life  must  be  necessarily  inductive. 
The  mind  is  then  forming  general  conclusions  from  the 
examination  of  individual  phenomena.  Only  after  general 
laws  have  been  laid  down,  after  objects  have  been  classi- 
fied, after  major  p/emises  have  been  formed,  can  deduction 

be  employed. 
/• 

Primary  Laws  of  Thought. 

We  can  lay  down  three  positive  laws  which  the  mind 
must,,  obey  in  thinking  correctly.' 


Law  of  Identity.  —  The  same  quality  or  thing  ts  always 
the  same  quality  or  thing,  no  matter  how  different  the  con- 
ditions in  which  it  occurs.  Theoretically,  it  seems  easy  to 
be  able  to  recognize  a  thing  as  the  same  that  we  have 
seen  before  ;  practically,  however,  the  recognition  is  often 


THOUGHT.  201 

difficult.  We  meet  a  person  to-day ;  next  week  we  see 
him  on  the  street  differently  attired,  and  fail  to  recognize 
him.  In  studying  certain  constellations,  the  student  fre- 
quently has  trouble  in  identifying  them  when  they  have 
moved  to  another  position  and  appear  to  be  inverted.  A 
doctor  often  has  great  trouble  in  identifying  a  disease, 
because  it  is  complicated  with  so  many  other  conditions. 
Cases  of  typhoid  fever  have  existed  for  weeks  without 
identification  by  excellent  physicians.  The  law  of  identity 
declares  that  a  case  of  typhoid  fever  is  always  a  case  of 
typhoid  fever ;  the  trouble  is  to  recognize  it  as  such.  A 
masked  man  is  the  same  man  as  before,  but  he  may  go 
unrecognized ;  so  may  a  certain  plant.  If  a  person  could 
always  detect  the  same  as  the  same,  he  would  less  often 
fall  a  victim  to  rascality  in  new  guises. 

Law  of  Contradiction.  —  No  thing  can  at  the  same  time 
and  place  both  be  and  not  be.  A_man_can»at.be  both  hoji- 
CSt  and  dishnnftfit-ftfr-th"'  lam**  time ;  nor  can  an  animal 
be  both  dead  and  alive.  A  piece  of  cloth  cannot  be  both 
red  and  not  red ;  but  it  may  be  red  in  one  spot,  black  in 
another,  white  in  another.  The  entire  piece  may  be  after- 
wards dyed  blue,  but  it  can  never  be  both  red  and  not  red 
in  the  same  place  and  at  the  same  time. 

Law  of  Excluded  Middle.  — Everything  must  either  be  or 
not  be  ;  there  is  no  other  alternative  or  middle  course.  Let 
the  thing  be  apple  and  the  quality  sour.  We  may  take 
any  conceivable  quality  and  assert  one  of  two  possibilities ; 
the  quality  either  does  or  does  not  belong  to  the  thing. 
We  may  not  know  what  a  samovar  is,  but  we  can  truth- 
fully assert  that  it  must  be  either  yellow  or  not  yellow, 
metallic  or  not,  blue-eyed  or  not,  bald  or  not 


2O2  PSYCHOLOGY  AND  PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

A  plausible  exception  to  this  law  may  be  urged.  It 
may  be  said  that  it  will  not  do  to  assert  that  water  is  warm 
or  cold,  for  it  may  be  lukewarm,  neither  warm  nor  cold. 
This  law  empowers  no  one  to  make  any  such  assertion. 
We  must  always  keep  to  the  same  quality,  e.g.  warmth ; 
then  we  can  say  that  the  water  is  either  warm  or  not  warm. 
If  it  is  lukewarm,  it  is  not  warm ;  if  it  is  cold,  it  is  not 
warm.  It  will  not  do  to  say  that  an  object  must  be  either 
white  or  black,  for  it  may  be  blue  or  green ;  but  we  can 
say  that  it  is  either  white  or  not  white.  We  can  always 
affirm  of  anything  either  that  it  has,  or  has  not,  a  certain 
quality ;  but,  from  the  absence  of  the  quality,  we  cannot 
affirm  the  possession  of  the  opposite  quality. 

Professor  Jevons  said  of  these  three  laws :  "  Students 
are  seldom  able  to  see  at  first  their  full  meaning  and 
importance.  All  arguments  may  be  explained  when  thelsej 
self-evident  laws  are  granted ;  and  it  is  not  too  much  ta 
Bay  that  the  whole  of  logic  will  be  plain  to  those  who  will 
constantly  use  these  laws  as  the  key  "  (i).  _J 

Relations  Traced  out  by  the  Mind. 

The  Most  Important  Relations.  —  We  have  seen  that 
thinking  consists  essentially  in  ferreting  out  relations  and 
in  comparing  them.  What  are  some  of  the  relations 
actually  detected  as  we  move  about  the  world  ? 

We  see  a  ship,  with  full  sail  set,  entering  a  harbor  in 
which  other  ships  are  lying  at  anchor.  The  next  day  we 
see  what  we  decide  to  be  the  same  ship,  lying  with  furled 
sails  beside  the  wharf.  We  have  traced  out  the  first 
thought  relation,  identity.  We  discovered  this  relation  of 
identity  by  comparing  the  memory  image  of  the  ship  with 
the  objective  ship.  Secondly,  we  notice  the  yardarms, 


THOUGHT. 


203 


masts,  rigging,  quarter-deck,  rudder,  etc.     We  see  these, 
not  as  isolated  objects,  but  as  related  to  the  whole  ship. 
We  thus  reach  the  relation  of  whole  and  parts.     Thirdly, 
we  notice  that  the  ship  extends  for  a  considerable  distance 
along  the  wharf,  that  she  is  much  larger  than  a  pleasure 
boat  just  passing  the  end  of  the  wharf.     We  are  now  con-, 
sidering  the  ship's  relation  to  space.     Fourthly,  we  com-J 
pare  this  ship  with  other  ships  and  notice  a  resemblance. 
Fifthly,  we  compare  the  ship  with  a  brig,  a  sloop,  or  t 
wharf,  and  detect  a  difference.     Sixthly,  we  notice  that  she.  ,, 
has  three  masts,  two  anchors,  one  rudder.     We  thus  cog-.  \ 
nize  quantitative  relations.     Seventhly,  we  remember  that  O^^U-r^ 
we  saw  her  sailing  yesterday,  and  we  wonder  how  long  she  -fT" 
will  lie  at  the  wharf,  how  long  her  next  voyage  will  beT^U/fl 
how  long  she  has  been  built.     We  are  now  busied  with      h 
time  relations.     Eighthly,    we   observe   that   the   ship  is  „  t  j 
thumping  against  the  wharf.     We  wonder  how  that  can    j£j 
be  on  such  a  calm  day.     We  see  a  steamer  rapidly  passing 
and  observe   that   she   makes  the  waves.     We  are  now 
studying  the  relations  of   cause   and  effect.     Ninthly,  we 
notice  how  admirably  the  ship  was  built  to  carry  a  large 
cargo  safely  and  at  the  same  time  to  be  propelled  swiftly. 
We  are  now  contemplating  the  relation  of  design,  or  means 
to  achieve  definite  ends.      These  nine  relations  are  the 
most  important  ones  traced  out  by  the  mind. 


INTUITIVE  KNOWLEDGE. 


Theories  about  Intuition.  —  Some  psychologists  claim 
that  we  have  knowledge  obtained  neither  through  induction 
nor  deduction ;  that  we  recognize  certain  truths  the  moment 
we  perceive  certain  objects,  without  any  process  of  infer- 
ence. Under  the  head  of  intuitive  knowledge  are  classified 


204  PSYCHOLOGY   AND    PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

such  cases  as  the  following :  We  perceive  an  object  and 
immediately  know  it  in  a  time  relation,  as  existing  now  or 
then.  We  are  said  to  have  an  intuitive  concept  of  time. 
When  we  are  told  that  the  whole  is  greater  than  a  part ; 
that  things  equal  to  the  same  thing  are  equal  to  each 
other ;  that  a  straight  line  cannot  inclose  space,  we  imme- 
diately, or  intuitively,  recognize  the  truth  of  these  state 
ments.  Attempts  at  proof  do  not  make  us  feel  surer  01 
their  truth.  When  we  are  told  that  every  object,  from  a 
kernel  of  wheat  to  an  elephant,  occupies  space,  we  do  not 
care  for  proof.  If  we  enter  our  room,  find  our  wardrobe 
broken  open,  our  clothing  and  valuables  gone,  we  assume 
that  their  disappearance  had  a  cause.  We  do  not  care  to 
have  any  one  attempt  to  prove  to  us  that  every  finite  thing 
must  have  a  cause.  We  say  that  that  is  self-evident,  or 
that  we  know  the  fact  intuitively.  We  expect  that  a  tree 
that  bears  apples  this  year  will  not  produce  pumpkins, 
foxes,  or  marbles  next  year.  In  other  words,  we  expect 
nature  to  be  uniform. 

Barring  a  few  exceptions,  the  position  of  these  intuitive 
philosophers  seems  reasonable.  They  do  not  hold  that 
the  mind  has  at  birth  a  single  ready-made  idea,  but  they 
maintain  that  the  moment  we  perceive  a  certain  thing,  a 
new  truth  flashes  into  our  minds  —  a  truth  not  given  by 
experience,  but  developed  in  connection  with  experience. 
Thus,  when  we  see  a  train  passing  us,  we  at  once  know 
that  it  is  passing  us  now.  The  "  now,"  or  concept  of  time, 
flashed  on  our  minds  the  second  we  had  definite  experience. 
The  moment  we  experienced  the  object,  we  knew  it  in  a 
time  relation,  just  as  a  young  duck  swims  the  moment 
it  touches  the  water.  There  must  be  foundation  truths 
assumed  on  which  to  build  other  truths.  The  finite  mind 
cannot  dig  beneath  these  foundation  truths,  or  intuitions. 


THOUGHT.  205 

Another  school  of  psychologists  holds  that  there  are  no 
intuitions,  that  what  we  regard  as  such  are  the  products  of 
evolution  or  heredity.  This  school  likens  intuition  to  in- 
stinct. It  grants  that  the  young  duck  knows  water  instinc- 
tively, plunges  into  it,  and  swims  without  learning.  These 
psychologists  believe  that  there  was  a  time  when  this  was 
not  the  case  with  the  progenitors  of  the  duck.  They  had 
to  gain  this  knowledge  slowly  through  experience.  Those 
that  learned  the  proper  aquatic  lesson  survived  and  trans- 
mitted this  knowledge,  through  a  modified  structure,  to 
their  progeny.  Those  that  failed  in  the  lesson  perished  in 
the  struggle  for  existence. 

As  the  autumn  approaches,  the  wild  goose  does  not 
reason  that  it  ought  to  migrate.  The  approach  of  cold 
immediately  develops  the  migratory  intuition,  or  instinct. 
The  tendency  is  already  there  at  birth.  The  approach  of 
cold  merely  develops  the  latent  migratory  tendency.  But, 
it  is  said,  there  was  a  time  when  it  took  severe  cold  to 
drive  the  geese  south.  Many  perished  on  the  way.  The 
same  experiences  were  repeated  in  the  case  of  the  survivors 
and  generation  after  generation  of  their  descendants,  until 
the  lesson  of  migrating  at  a  certain  time  had  been  gradually 
learned,  and  the  structure  so  modified  that  the  tendency 
to  migrate  was  transmitted  as  an  instinct  to  the  young. 

This  school  claims  that  the  intuition  of  cause  and  effect 
arose  in  much  the  same  way.  Generations  of  human 
beings  had  seen  the  cause  invariably  joined  to  the  effect ; 
hence,  through  inseparable  association  came  the  recogni- 
tion of  their  necessary  sequence.  The  tendency  to  regard 
all  phenomena  in  these  relations  was  with  steadily  increas- 
ing force  transmitted  by  the  laws  of  heredity  to  posterity, 
until  the  recognition  of  the  relationship  has  become  an 
intuition. 


206  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

The  view  that  a  single  individual  has  built  up  all  these 
intuitions  in  one  lifetime  by  separate  experiences  is  being 
abandoned.  There  is,  without  doubt,  much  truth  in  the 
theory  of  heredity,  and  this  does  not  necessarily  contradict 
the  intuitive  theory.  If  a  process  which  was  once  not 
intuitive  gradually  becomes  intuitive,  why  is  it  not  then  in- 
tuitive ?  The  shepherd's  dog  that  guards  the  lambs  may 
have  descended  from  the  wolf,  but  that  dog  is  not  a  wolf 
now.  If  we  realize  a  truth  now  without  inference,  the 
process  is  intuitive,  no  matter  what  it  may  once  have  been. 
It  may  be  that  a  luscious  peach  was  nourished  by  a  rank 
soil ;  but  the  ripe  peach  is  not  the  soil.  Things  come  to 
be  other  than  the  material  from  which  they  spring. 

Innate  Ideas.  —  The  old  belief  in  innate  ideas,  that  is, 
that  certain  fully  developed  ideas  are  given  at  birth,  uncon- 
nected with  any  experience,  is  untenable.  Nothing  more 
than  the  germ  of  these  ideas  exists  in  the  mind.  Were  it 
not  for  experience,  the  germ  would  never  be  developed 
into  an  idea.  On  the  one  hand,  rich  soil  and  rain  will 
never  make  an  oak  tree  without  an  acorn  to  start  with ;  on 
the  other,  an  acorn  will  never  become  an  oak  without  the 
soil  and  the  rain  to  develop  it.  Some  philosophers  fail  to 
understand  that  the  germ  of  a  thing  is  not  the  thing  itself 
any  more  than  an  acorn  is  an  oak ;  other  philosophers  do 
not  appreciate  the  fact  that  in  order  to  produce  an  oak,  we 
must  have  an  acorn  at  the  start. 

The  precise  limits  of  the  extent  of  intuitive  ideas  are  still 
a  matter  of  dispute  ;  it  may  be  that  some  ideas  now  con- 
sidered intuitive  by  many,  can  be  shown  to  be  due  wholly 
to  experience.  It  is  possible  that  the  universities  of 
Arctums  or  the  Milky  Way  may  teach  neither  cause  nor 
effect.  Many  philosophers  believe  that  our  idea  of  cause 


THOUGHT.  207 

and  effect  is  wholly  due  to  our  experience  ;  that  we  can 
and  do  think  something  out  of  any  relation  to  a  cause 
when  we  think  that  our  wills  are  free  and  are  themselves 
the  pilots  of  our  actions.  If  the  will  is  not  free,  if  it  is 
under  the  control  of  a  cause,  we  must  not  blame  a  criminal 
for  doing  something  that  he  could  not  help.  These  meta- 
physical arguments  can  be  prolonged  indefinitely.  They 
may  have  their  use  in  sharpening  the  reasoning  powers. 


THE  INTELLIGENCE  OF  ANIMALS. 

Examples  of  Animal  Intelligence.  —  Much  has  been 
learned  about  human  intelligence  by  comparing  it  with 
animal  intelligence.  Since  theorizing  not  based  on  the  ex- 
amination of  concrete  cases  is  valueless,  let  us  first  give 
some  actual  instances  of  intelligence  in  animals. 

A  man  allowed  a  sow  pig  about  a  year  old  to  run  in  his 
orchard.  He  watched  her  go  to  a  young  apple  tree,  shake 
it,  and  eat  the  apples  that  fell.  Having  finished  these,  she 
again  shook  the  tree,  pricked  up  her  ears,  and  listened  for 
more  to  drop.  As  none  fell,  she  went  away. 

Another  sow  with  a  litter  of  pigs  was  accustomed  to 
spend  the  day  in  a  forest,  returning  home  at  night  to  be 
fed.  When  her  pigs  were  of  sufficient  age,  three  were 
taken  to  roast  at  different  times,  being  caught  when  she 
returned  home  with  them.  After  the  third  had  been 
taken,  she  came  without  the  pigs.  The  next  evening  a 
watch  was  set  to  find  out  what  had  become  of  them.  She 
would  not  allow  them  to  follow  her  farther  than  the  edge 
of  the  forest,  but  drove  them  back  repeatedly  ;  she  then 
went  to  the  house,  got  her  own  supper,  and  returned  to 
them.  She  had  evidently  connected  their  disappearance 
with  going  to  the  house,  and  took  this  course  to  save  them. 


208  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

Professor  Romanes  writes  :  "  I  myself  had  a  horse  which 
was  very  clever  at  slipping  his  halter,  after  he  knew  that 
the  coachman  was  in  bed.  He  would  then  draw  out  the 
two  sticks  in  the  pipe  of  the  oat  bin,  so  as  to  let  all  the 
oats  run  down  from  the  bin  above  upon  the  stable  floor. 
Of  course,  he  must  have  observed  that  this  was  the  manner 
in  which  the  coachman  obtained  the  oats,  and  desiring  to 
obtain  them,  did  what  he  had  observed  to  be  required. 
Similarly,  on  other  occasions  he  used  to  turn  the  water 
tap  to  obtain  a  drink,  and  pull  the  window  cord  to  open 
the  window  on  hot  nights." 

There  is  a  well-authenticated  account  of  a  Shetland  pony 
that  had  been  shod  once.  Happening  to  lose  a  shoe,  the 
animal  went  by  himself  to  the  door  of  the  village  black- 
smith, and  refused  to  leave  until  the  missing  shoe  had 
been  put  on.  The  pony  then  pawed  on  the  floor  to  make 
sure  that  the  shoe  was  all  right  and,  giving  a  neigh  of 
satisfaction,  cantered  off  home. 

A  man  once  desired  to  test  his  dog,  which  was  lying 
down  quietly  as  if  asleep.  In  the  midst  of  a  general  con- 
versation, he  inserted  the  words,  "The  cow  is  in  the 
potatoes."  The  dog  jumped  up  at  once,  dashed  out  to  the 
garden,  and  appeared  surprised  not  to  find  the  cow  there. 

Another  dog  had  for  some  time  chased  a  rabbit  which 
ran  in  a  circular  course  to  a  burrow  and  escaped  the  dog. 
Finally,  the  dog,  on  starting  the  rabbit,  ran  immediately 
across  the  circle  to  the  mouth  of  the  burrow  and  awaited 
the  rabbit  there. 

The  author  of  Unbeaten  Tracks  in  Japan  writes  as  follows 
of  the  intelligence  of  Japanese  crows  :  — 

"  In  the  inn  garden  I  saw  a  dog  eating  a  piece  of  carrion 
in  the  presence  of  several  of  these  covetous  birds.  They 
evidently  said  a  great  deal  to  each  other  on  the  subject, 


THOUGHT.  209 

and  now  and  then  one  or  two  of  them  tried  to  pull  the 
meat  away  from  him,  which  he  resented.  At  last  a  big, 
strong  crow  succeeded  in  tearing  off  a  piece,  with  which 
he  returned  to  the  pine  where  the  others  were  congregated, 
and  after  much  earnest  speech,  they  all  surrounded  the 
dog,  and  the  leading  bird  dexterously  dropped  the  small 
piece  of  meat  within  reach  of  his  mouth,  when  he  imme- 
diately snapped  at  it,  letting  go  the  big  piece,  unwisely, 
for  a  second,  on  which  two  of  the  crows  flew  away  with  it 
to  the  pine,  and  with  much  fluttering  and  hilarity  they  all 
ate,  or  rather  gorged  it,  the  deceived  dog  looking  vacant 
and  bewildered  for  a  moment,  after  which  he  sat  under  the 
tree  and  barked  at  them  inanely. 

"A  gentleman  told  me  that  he  saw  a  dog  holding  a  piece 
of  meat  in  like  manner  in  the  presence  of  three  crows, 
which  also  vainly  tried  to  tear  it  from  him,  and  after  a 
consultation  they  separated,  two  going  as  near  as  they 
dared  to  the  meat,  while  the  third  gave  the  tail  a  bite 
sharp  enough  to  make  the  dog  turn  round  with  a  squeak, 
on  which  the  other  villains  seized  the  meat,  and  the  three 
fed  triumphantly  upon  it  on  the  top  of  a  wall." 

It  is  well  known  that  some  ants  keep  a  certain  species 
of  insect,  called  aphides.  These  stand  in  precisely  the 
same  relation  to  ants  that  cows  do  to  human  beings.  The 
aphides  are  regularly  milked  by  the  ants,  and  a  sweet 
nutritious  liquid,  somewhat  resembling  honey,  is  thus 
secured.  The  ants  sometimes  build  stables  for  their  cows, 
allowing  them  to  pasture  on  certain  plants,  and  fencing 
the  stalk  of  these  plants  in  such  a  way  that  the  cows 
cannot  escape.  Naturalists  have  repeatedly  seen  ants 
milk  their  cows. 

Three  species  of  ants  keep  other  ants  as  slaves.  The 
slaves  tend  the  aphides,  milk  them,  and  often  climb  trees 
HALLECK'S  PSYC.  —  u. 


2IO  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

and  plants  in  order  to  find  more  aphides  and  thus  increase 
the  dairy.  The  slaves  even  put  the  food  into  the  mouths 
of  their  masters.  Bugs  are  also  sometimes  enslaved  by 
ants  and  made  to  carry  heavy  burdens. 

A  man  placed  a  broad  cloth  soaked  in  the  extract  of 
tobacco  around  a  tree,  which  ants  used  as  a  pasturage  for 
their  aphides.  The  ants  could  not  cross  the  cloth,  and  so 
they  brought  pellets  of  moist  earth  and  built  a  bridge  over 
the  strip.  They  crossed  this  bridge  easily  and  went  to 
milk  their  cows.  A  tarred  cloth  was  put  around  a  tree, 
and  some  ants  returning  home  from  milking  found  them- 
selves imprisoned.  They  ran  back  up  the  tree,  brought 
down  aphides,  stuck  their  bodies  fast  in  the  tar,  and 
thus  formed  a  bridge  across  the  strip.  Ants  have  been 
seen  to  make  a  bridge  across  a  small  vessel  of  water. 
The  ants  might  have  brought  earth  for  this  bridge,  but 
they  illustrated  the  choice  of  means  for  ends  and  used 
instead  pieces  of  wood  or  straw. 

Ants  have  cemeteries  and  funeral  processions.  Two 
ants  bear  the  corpse  at  the  head  of  the  procession,  which 
follows  two  by  two.  When  the  first  two  are  tired,  the 
next  pair  take  up  the  body.  On  arriving  at  the  burial 
ground,  they  dig  a  grave,  and  inter  the  body.  A  lady, 
wishing  to  see  a  funeral,  killed  a  number  of  soldier  ants. 
She  watched  the  procession  as  above  described.  On 
reaching  the  cemetery,  six  or  seven  of  the  ants  refused 
to  help  dig  the  graves.  These  ants  were  caught,  brought 
back,  and  killed  at  once  like  deserters  from  an  army.  A 
trench  was  then  dug  in  which  they  were  all  buried  to- 
gether. It  was  observed  that  ants  would  not  bury  their 
slaves  in  the  cemetery  used  for  the  masters.  Darwin 
called  the  brain  of  an  ant  one  of  the  most  marvelous  atoms 
of  matter  in  the  world  (2). 


THOUGHT.  211 

Associational  Reasoning.  —  When  we  come  to  investigate 
carefully  the  intelligence  of  animals,  we  find  that  theit 
reasoning  is  principally  by  the  association  of  concretes. 

The  dog  that  ran  to  the  potato  patch  on  hearing  the 
expression,  "The  cow  is  in  the  potatoes,"  knew  from  oft 
association  of  the  word  "cow"  with  the  object,  that  the 
cow  needed  attention.  The  potato  field  had  been  used  in 
connection  with  a  certain  place  so  long,  that  the  word 
recalled  the  place  to  the  dog.  The  other  words  in  the 
conversation  were  associated  with  nothing  definite  in  the 
canine  intelligence.  The  word  "cow"  brought  up  by  ordi- 
nary association  an  animal  with  which  the  dog  was  very 
familiar.  The  word  "  potatoes  "  recalled  a  place.  There  was 
a.  union  of  two  concrete  images,  a  cow  and  a  potato  field. 

The  dog  that  ran  direct  to  the  mouth  of  the  burrow 
and  waited  for  his-  prey,  instead  of  chasing  the  rabbit 
through  a  long  circular  course,  had  before  followed  the 
rabbit's  path  which  finally  led  to  the  burrow.  Repeated 
associations  had  caused  the  sight  of  the  rabbit  vanishing 
down  the  burrow  to  make  such  a  deep  impression  on  the 
dog,  that  when  he  started,  the  associated  images  ran 
through  his  mind  faster  than  his  legs  could  take  him. 
The  last  and  most  powerful  image  of  the  series  was  the 
rabbit  disappearing  down  the  burrow.  The  dog  immedi- 
ately rushed  straight  for  the  place  indicated  by  the  last 
image,  arriving  there  first  because  his  associations  had 
outrun  his  legs. 

The  pig  that  shook  a  tree  to  make  the  apples  fall,  had 
previously  leaned  against  a  tree  to  scratch  herself.  This 
movement  was  associated  with  the  falling  of  apples,  and 
both  concrete  ideas  were  associated  in  the  pig's  memory. 
Why  the  apples  fell  was  as  much  of  a  mystery  to  the  pig 
as  the  appearance  of  the  jinnee  was  to  Aladdin  when  he 


212  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

rubbed  his  lamp.  The  two  were  associated,  and  that  was 
enough  for  the  pig.  From  the  falling  of  apples  due  to  the 
swaying  of  the  tree  in  the  wind,  the  pig  would  probably 
never  have  reasoned  that  any  kind  of  violent  motion  would 
be  accompanied  with  like  results.  Had  the  pig  not  itched, 
the  tree  would  probably  never  have  been  shaken.  A  man 
would  naturally  have  reasoned  from  the  results  due  to  the 
wind  that  the  same  would  happen  if  the  tree  were  shaken 
by  his  own  muscles.  The  man  would  have  reasoned  from 
one  instance,  to  another  apparently  dissimilar  at  first 
sight.  The  pig  reasoned  from  one  accidental  shaking  to 
another. 

The  horse  had  seen  a  movement  of  sticks  followed  by 
the  descent  of  oats.  The  two  concrete  images  were  associ- 
ated. The  horse  did  not  know  why  the  oats  fell ;  it  was 
enough  for  him  that  they  did  fall.  If  the  coachman  had 
accidentally  happened  to  pull  the  sticks  when  the  horse 
pawed,  the  animal  would  doubtless  have  pawed  until  the 
fall  of  oats  was  no  longer  associated  with  that  movement. 

The  Shetland  pony  had  associated  the  shoe  with  the 
blacksmith  shop.  The  pony's  foot  was  probably  sore, 
and  the  animal  went  to  the  blacksmith  as  naturally  as  he 
would  have  gone  a  second  time  to  a  place  where  corn  had 
been  found. 

Crows  had  probably  pecked  other  crows  in  anger  and 
had  caused  them  to  drop  food.  When  the  pecking  had 
once  been  associated  with  such  satisfactory  results,  the 
crows  would  be  likely  to  repeat  it  in  many  ways,  until  it 
came  to  be  applied  in  a  seemingly  scientific  manner  to  the 
tail  of  a  dog. 

In  the  case  of  ants  the  question  is  more  difficult,  because 
it  is  obscured  by  instincts  built  up  ages  ago  under  the  influ- 
ence of  unknown  causes. 


THOUGHT.  213 

There  are  some  extremely  puzzling  cases  of  intelligence 
on  the  part  of  other  animals.  Generally,  however,  we 
may  say  that  the  reasoning  of  animals  is  due  to  the 
contiguous  association  of  one  concrete  object,  or  set  of 
objects,  with  another.  This  may  occasionally  contain  the 
germ,  but  not  the  full  flower,  of  human  reasoning. 

Improvement  due  to  contiguous  association  must  be 
accidental.  This  is  the  reason  why  the  swallow,  the  robin, 
the  crow,  the  lion,  and  the  elephant  have  not  bettered 
their  condition  from  age  to  age.  We  must  not  forget  this 
fact  when  we  are  puzzled  with  an  occasional  exhibition  of 
animal  intelligence. 


HE  HIGHER  TYPE  OF  REASONING. 


Detection  of  Similarity  amid  Diversity.  —  There  is  a 
vast  gulf  between  associating  concrete  cases  with  others, 
and  reasoning  from  certain  instances  to  those  where  the 
dissimilarity  is  the  most  striking  point,  where  the  simi- 
larity is  seen  in  but  one  tiny  thread  running  through  fabrics 
otherwise  as  different  as  possible.  What  beast  would  have 
detected  any  analogy  between  the  steam  raising  the  lid 
of  a  teakettle  and  the  strength  of  a  horse,  and  then  put 
the  steam  to  do  the  work  of  the  horse  ?  What  ant 
would  have  seen  any  similarity  between  the  vibrations  in 
the  yielding  air  and  the  apparently  unyielding  telephone 
wire  ? 

Human  reason  is  characterized  by  applying  known  ex- 
pedients and  methods  to  unknown  and  untried  cases, 
merely  on  the  mental  perception  of  similarity.  The  high- 
est example  of  this  was  seen  in  Newton's  detecting  a 
relation  between  a  falling  apple  and  the  moon's  move- 
ments in  its  orbit,  and  then  in  applying  the  mathematical 


214  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 

laws  deduced  therefrom  to  every  atom  of  matter,  from  a 
drop  of  water  to  the  farthest  star.  The  problem  of  the 
tides  was  an  easy  matter  for  such  a  mind  to  solve. 

Professor  James  gives  the  case  of  a  dog  that  went  to 
the  house  and  got  a  sponge  for  his  master  to  bail  out  the 
boat.  The  dog  was  very  observant  and  had  noticed  the 
sponge  used  in  the  same  way  before.  If  the  dog  could 
not  have  found  the  sponge,  he  would  probably  have  re- 
turned with  nothing.  Even  an  ignorant  man  would  have 
formed  the  concept  of  a  thing  capable  of  bailing  out  water, 
and  if  he  could  not  have  found  the  sponge,  he  would  have 
brought  a  wooden  scoop,  a  wash  basin,  a  tin  can,  "a  cup,  or 
a  coffee  pot.  The  differences  in  these  would  have  been 
sufficiently  great  to  bewilder  the  dog ;  but  to  the  man's 
reason  they  would  have  been  nearly  identical  for  the  pur- 
pose. A  man  might  never  have  seen  a  coffee  pot  used  to 
bail  out  a  boat ;  yet  he  would  have  noticed  at  a  glance  that 
this  utensil  had  the  qualities  which  fitted  it  for  the  pur- 
pose. Man  thus  reduces  stray  individual  phenomena  and 
objects  to  classes,  and  brings  them  under  general  laws. 

The  higher  type  of  reasoning,  then,  proceeds  by  detect- 
ing similarity  amid  great  diversity,  by  applying  old  expe- 
dients to  solve  new  problems.  Contiguous  reasoning  starts 
from  accidental  associations.  When  the  climate  changed 
in  prehistoric  England,  man  was  ready  with  an  expedient 
to  protect  himself ;  the  elephants  and  lions  died. 

Units  of  Comparison.  —  In  all  reasoning  we  must  have 
certain  units  with  which  to  compare  the  things  in  the 
world  around  us.  These  units  should  be  well  known ; 
indeed,  they  must  be  better  known  than  the  things  with 
which  we  compare  them,  or  we  gain  nothing  by  the  com- 
parison. Knowledge  consists  in  assimilating  -things__uiv 


THOUGHT.  215 

tQ  thingff  kHftwrl  Isolated  facts  are  worth  nothing^ 
Only  when  facts  are  woven  together  by  thought  do  they 
become  valuable. 

Knowledge  of  these  units  is  obtained,  in  the  first  place, 
through  perception.  Where  that  is  stinted,  thought  must 
be  dwarfed.  A  young  child  familiar  with  a  dog,  on  seeing 
a  puffing  locomotive,  called  it  a  "  big  bow-wow."  The 
dog  was  the  nearest  comparing  unit  that  the  child  had. 
The  stars  to  him  will,  at  first,  be  candles.  When  his 
knowledge  widens,  he  will  think  of  them  as  suns.  On 
seeing  goats  for  the  first  time,  the  South-Sea  Islanders 
called  them  horned  hogs.  Horses  were  called  large  dogs. 
The  hog  and  the  dog  were  units  of  comparison  because 
they  were  the  best  known  quadrupeds.  Unknown  animals 
had  to  be  assimilated  to  the  most  similar  known  ones. 
A  backwoodsman  traveling  will  often  attempt,  ludicrously 
enough,  to  explain  the  sights  he  sees  in  terms  of  his  own 
stinted  experience.  He  must  proceed  in  this  way  until 
his  experience  is  widened  and  he  has  more  units  of  com- 
parison. It  was  the  most  natural  act  for  the  rustic,  sitting 
down  .to  an  aristocratic  city  dinner,  to  drink  out  of  his 
finger  bowl,  in  which  a  piece  of  fragrant  lemon  rind  was 
floating.  He  had  before  had  experience  only  with  lemon- 
ade under  that  guise. 

Every  cultivated  adult  has  a  large  number  of  units 
which  his  own  experience  has  given  him.  In  such  a 
simple  matter  as  comparing  the  sizes  of  two  rooms,  the 
person  without  a  unit  of  comparison  is  lost.  One  room 
cannot  be  taken  up  and  carried  inside  another  for  direct 
comparison.  The  foot-rule  supplies  such  a  unit.  We  find 
that  one  room  is  twenty  feet  long ;  the  other,  fifteen.  We 
now  have  their  lengths  denoted  in  terms  of  a  common 
unit.  The  eggs  which  the  farmer  barters  for  sugar  must 


2l6  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 

first  be  expressed  in  terms  of  a  certain  unit,  as  must  also 
the  sugar.  The  eggs  are  worth  so  many  cents  a  dozen, 
the  sugar  so  many  cents  a  pound.  Steam  and  electrical 
engines  are  said  to  be  of  so  many  horse  power ;  lights,  of 
so  many  candle  power. 

All  deductive  reasoning  has  its  well-defined  units  of 
comparison.  In  the  syllogism,  these  are  called  the  middle 
term.  A  person  is  found  wondering  whether  a  certain 
fruit  grew  on  a  tree,  or  on  a  vine,  like  a  squash.  He  is 
informed  that,  — 

All  quinces  grow  on  trees. 
This  yellow  object  is  a  quince. 
It  grows  on  a  tree. 

Here  we  have  a  quince  =  something  growing  on  a  tree. 
This  yellow  object  =  a  quince.  We  see  that  the  same 
unit,  quince,  is  common  to  both  equations.  It  is,  therefore, 
the  comparing  unit,  or  middle  term,  and  occupies  a  relation 
analogous  to  that  of  the  foot-rule  in  the  case  of  the  two 
rooms. 

Youthful  perception  shuuld  secure  as  many  units  of 
comparison  as  possible.  Later  in  life,  we  come  to  regard 
things  chiefly  from  the  point  of  view  in  which  we  are 
interested.  We  shall  not  then  be  apt  to  hunt  for  new 
units,  and  we  shall  be  very  narrow  unless  reason  can  build 
on  a  broad  foundation  laid  in  youth.  Men  can  seldom  go 
into  a  new  business  after  middle  life  and  succeed.  They 
have  no  units  of  comparison  for  that  special  business. 
Wrong  machinery  or  unsalable  stock  is  bought.  The 
unit  of  cost  of  production,  or  of  managing  the  business 
most  economically,  is  not  known  in  advance  and  is,  per- 
haps, not  found  out  until  the  capital  is  exhausted  and  the 
concern  has  failed. 


THOUGHT.  217 

Variation  in  Standards  of  Comparison.  —  The  units  of 
comparison  are  in  many  cases  subject  to  change  in  the' 
short  life  of  a  single  individual.     The  standard  of  enjoy-  \ 
ment  varies  at  different  times  of  life.     The  active  games 
which  appeal  so  strongly  to  youth  are  distasteful  to  age. 
Young  persons  are  apt  to  like  a  florid,  highly  ornate  style 
in  literature.     Later,  the  excellence  of  the  thought  receives 
more  attention  than  the  mere  form  of  expression.     The 
writers  which  charm  youth  are   neglected   in    manhood. 
To  a  child,  the  standard  by  which  to  measure  the  highest 
type  of  enjoyment  may  be  the  delights  of  Christmas  and 
the  Fourth  of  July.     Before  the  age  of  thirty,  that  stand- 
ard will  have  changed. 

A  study  of  history  shows  that  the  standards  by  which 
men  and  morals  are  judged  vary  from  age  to  age.  The 
Spartan  judged  his  children  by  a  standard  of  physical  ex- 
cellence.  If  they  possessed  a  certain  unit  of  strength, 
they  were  allowed  to  live ;  if  not,  they  were  abandoned 
on  a  solitary  mountain  side  to  die  of  hunger  or  to  be 
devoured  by  wild  beasts.  To-day  the  law  imposes  a  moral 
unit  of  excellence  to  allow  a  man  to  live.  If  he  willfully 
commits  murder,  the  law  prescribes  death.  Among  some 
tribes  the  aged  were  regularly  killed.  When  they  fell 
below  a  standard  determined  by  their  ability  to  care  for 
themselves,  the  father  and  the  mother  were  put  to  death. 

The  Roman  thought  it  a  heinous  crime  to  enslave  a 
fellow  Roman,  but  considered  it  right  to  enslave  other 
peoples.  Centuries  later  it  was  thought  wrong  to  enslave 
any  white  man  ;  the  color  then  formed  the  unit  of  com- 
parison. Later,  this  standard  changed,  and  it  came  to  be 
considered  wrong  to  enslave  any  human  being.  Horses 
and  other  beasts  are  the  only  creatures  which  it  is  now 
thought  right  to  enslave. 


2l8  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

Burning    heretics    at    the    stake   was    once   a   sign   of 
Christian   zeal.     It  was  once  considered   immoral  to  b 
:n   debt,    when   that   condition   was   associated   with   th 
prison-house. 

The  standards  by  which  men  of  our  own  day  judge  things 
vary  from  race  to  race  and  from  man  to  man.  There  is 
nothing  more  variable,  more  changeable  in  its  conclusions, 
than  thought.  The  Eskimo's  standard  for  determining  a 
hot  day  differs  from  that  of  an  inhabitant  of  the  tropics. 
An  object  may  be  judged  heavy  by  a  weak  man,  light  by  a 
strong  man.  The  loss  of  something  that  would  not  affect 
one  person  may  cause  another  genuine  suffering. 

I  No  one  has  any  right  to  set  himself  up  as  a  standard 
by  which  to  judge  the  feelings  of  others;  and  yet  the 
conceit  and  stupidity  of  human  beings  are  such  that  they 
are  always  doing  this  very  thing ;  their  imaginations  are 
not  sufficiently  cultivated  for  them  to  be  able  to  conceive 
themselves  environed  in  the  same  way  that  others  are. 
We  can  even  imagine  beings  so  constituted  as  to  be 
able  to  dwell  on  the  sun's  surface  and  to  inhale  the  vapor 
of  certain  molten  metals  borne  on  the  winds  of  flaming 
hydrogen,  with  as  much  pleasure  as  we  breathe  the  fresh 
sea  air  in  the  month  of  August.  And  yet  some  persons 
feel  considerable  surprise,  when  they  learn  that  everything 
in  the  universe  cannot  be  measured  by  their  yardstick. 

When  precisely  the  same  facts  are  set  before  the  judges 
of  the  supreme  court,  their  opinions  often  disagree.  The 
judges  are  all  learned  men,  capable  of  grasping  the  im- 
port of  testimony ;  yet  dissenting  opinions  are  frequently 
expressed.  From  one  set  of  facts  A  concludes  one  thing, 
while  B  concludes  directly  the  opposite.  If  this  is  the 
case,  what  reliance  can  be  put  on  thought  ?  At  one  time 
it  was  considered  the  proper  course,  by  some  doctors,  to 


THOUGHT.  219 

bleed  a  patient,  although  others  decided  that  every  drop 
of  blood  ought  to  be  saved.  Some  persons  think  a  fever 
ought  to  be  starved  ;  others,  that  it  ought  to  be  fed. 
Some  say  that  all  logic  points  toward  free  trade ;  others, 
toward  protection.  Some  declare  that  free  silver  coinage 
is  necessary  to  the  prosperity  of  a  country;  others  are 
sure  that  the  opposite  is  the  fact. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  thought  has  no  rigid  boundary 
lines.  It  is  fortunate  that  such  is  the  case.  Wer^  the 
contrary  true,  were  thought  conclusions  not  subject  to 
change,  man  could  never  have  advanced  from  barbarism  to 
civilization.  An  eclipse  would  always  have  been  a  monster 
seeking  to  devour  the  sun.  A  comet  would  always  have 
portended  disease  and  death.  Men  would  have  been 
satisfied  with  the  conveyance  which  horses  furnished. 
None  of  the  great  reformers  would  have  arisen.  No 
Columbus  would  have  crossed  the  ocean.  The  men  who 
have  moved  the  world  on  in  the  line  of  progress,  —  the 
geniuses, — have  ever  thought  differently  from  their  fel- 
lows. Those  countries,  in  which  the  people  have  been  so 
ground  down  by  despotism  that  all  originality  and  dis- 
similarity of  thought  have  been  destroyed,  are  the  least 
progressive. 

The  learned  judges  render  a  different  decision  on  the 
same  testimony  because  their  experience  in  life  has  been 
different,  and  consequently  the  same  testimony  is  looked 
at  from  a  different  point  of  view.  When  studying  apper- 
ception, we  saw  that  the  same  thing  impressed  different 
people  in  very  different  ways.  A  very  little  testimony, 
that  coincides  with  a  man's  own  experience,  will  sway  him 
more  than  a  vast  amount  which  has  no  points  of  attach- 
ment to  his  mind.  If  he  has  children,  anything  affecting 
the  status  of  a  child  will  appeal  to  him  more  powerfully 


220  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

than  if  he  has  none.  Though  false  theories  concerning 
science,  government,  or  life  may  prevail  for  a  while,  yet 
Jnith^is  capable  of  fighting  a  long  battle  without  tiring, 
and  shpWina  jfl  fljg  f nrl  The  poet  uttered  a  great  truth 
when  he  sang  :  — 

"  Yet  I  doubt  not  through  the  ages  one  increasing  purpose  runs, 
And  the  thoughts  of  men  are  widened  with  the  process  of  the  suns." 

BELIEF. 

Belief  Emotional  as  well  as  Intellectual.  —  Belief  is  a 

mental  state  which  might  as  well  be  classed  under  emotion 
as  under  thinking,  for  it  combines  both  elements.  Belief 
is  part  inference  from  the  known  to  the  unknown,  and  part 
feeling  or  emotion.  Wherever  the  proof  of  anything  is 
not  absolute,  but  where  the  probability  seems  to  our  minds 
to  be  of  the  strongest  kind,  we  are  said  to  believe. 

We  can  absolutely  prove  much  that  has  occurred  in  the 
past.  It  is  not  a  matter  of  belief,  but  of  absolute  knowl- 
edge, that  a  certain  building  was  burned,  that  a  certain 
man  died,  that  it  rained  yesterday,  that  there  was  ice  last 
winter.  When  we  come  to  consider  the  future,  we  are 
thrown  more  on  a  state  of  belief.  From  the  thought 
processes  involved  in  comparing  and  inferring,  we  find 
ourselves  feeling  more  or  less  sure  that  certain  things 
will  happen  in  the  future.  Ask  a  farmer  who  is  sowing 
a  certain  crop  if  he  is  absolutely  sure  that  sufficient  rain 
will  fall  for  the  crop ;  and  he  will  reply  that  he  is  not  sure, 
but  that  he  believes  there  will  be  rain.  . 

In  religious  matters,  men  frequently  say  that  they  want 
absolute  proof,  not  belief  or  faith.  If  these  men  acted 
on  this  principle  in  business  life,  but  little  business  would 
be  done  by  them.  No  national  bank  stock  would  be 


THOUGHT.  221 

bought ;  in  fact,  no  investments  of  any  kind  would  be 
made,  because  there  could  bje  no  absolute  proof  that  the 
bank  would  not  fail  or  the  investments  not  result  in  loss. 
No  private  individual  or  company  would  ever  engage  in 
business,  because  there  could  be  no  proof  that  the  under- 
taking would  not  fail.  A  large  amount  of  the  world's 
traffic  is  done  on  credit,  and  that  is  nothing  other  than 
a  belief  that  the  debtor  will  pay.  The  morning  after  the 
first  wave  of  a  panic  rolls  over .  a  country,  there  may  not 
be  a  dollar  less  of  money  in  it ;  but  there  is  less  confi- 
dence, trust,  faith,  belief,  or  whatever  other  synonymous 
word  we  may  choose  to  apply  to  the  mental  state  of  the 
business  community. 

So  long  as  the  world  does  not  stagnate,  it  will  always 
act  on  belief  in  the  most  weighty  matters,  whether  of 
religion  or  of  businessy  <>/ 

REFERENCES. 

1 .  Jevons's  Lessons  in  Logic  is  an  excellent  book  for  every  one  to 
familiarize  himself  with. 

2.  For  additional   examples,   see    Romanes's  Animal    Intelligence, 
which  has  furnished  a  number  of  the  illustrations  in  the  section. 


,  CHAPTER   IX. 

THOUGHT   CULTURE. 

#/ 

Study  of  Relations.  —  A  large  part  of  the  chapters  on 
the  cultivation  of  the  memory  and  the  imagination  was 
devoted  to  the  cultivation  of  thought.  It  is  impossible 
to  train  one  mental  power  correctly  without  cultivating 
others  at  the  same  time.  What  has  already  been  said  in 
regard  to  thought  culture  need  not  be  repeated  here. 

Some  one  has  truly  said  that  civilization  is  only  another 
term  for  thinking.  Civilization  is  just  as  much  a  product 
of  thought  as  is  an  abstract  quality  like  purity  or  redness. 
Men  have  always  busied  themselves  with  the  study  of  rela- 
tions, and  the  march  of  civilization  has  proceeded  in  the 
direction  marked  out  by  their  discovery.  We  cannot  tell 
how  long  the  wool  on  the  sheep's  back  appeared  to  the 
mind  to  be  unrelated  to  human  clothing;  but  we  do  know 
that  man  has  become  a  master  of  changing  climates, 
far  in  advance  of  the  beasts.  This  advantage  is  largely 
due  to  the  discovery  of  the  comparative  conductivity  of 
heat  in  wool,  cotton,  and  furs,  and  the  relation  which  this 
variation  bears  to  their  value  as  clothing  at  different  tem- 
peratures. Weaving  and  spinning  machines  are  examples 
of  the  use  in  combination  of  intricately  related  mechanical 
forces. 

The  first  practical  rule  for  the  cultivation  of  the  think- 
ing powers  is :  Be  ever  on  the  hunt  for/vrelations.  The 
only  way  in  which  the  world  can  advance  is  by  finding  out 

222 


THOUGHT  CULTURE.  223 

new  relations  between  things.  He  who  discovers  these 
new  relations  is  a  benefactor  to  his  race.  Petroleum  was 
long  unused.  Its  relations  to  light,  heat,  and  lubrication 
had  not  been  discovered.  When  the  earth  becomes  well- 
nigh  denuded  of  its  forests  and  the  supply  of  coal  is  ex- 
hausted, some  new  relations  will  probably  be  discovered 
between  other  forces  in  the  universe.  Perhaps  the  dis- 
covery may  result  in  a  new  method  of  changing  vibrations 
into  heat ;  perhaps  the  wasted  energy  of  a  summer  sun 
may  be  preserved  and  liberated  in  the  winter ;  perhaps 
some  easier  way  may  be  discovered  of  disuniting  the  hydro- 
gen and  oxygen  in  water,  and  the  very  ocean  may  be  used 
for  fuel. 

The  power  of  detecting  the  very  first  thought  relation, 
that  of  identity,  is  still  in  its  infancy.  Not  until  recently 
has  the  identity  of  electricity  with  vibrations  in  the  ether 
been  discovered.  The  person  who  is  on  the  hunt  for  rela- 
tions under  all  circumstances  may  be  sure  that  he  is  on  the 
only  royal  road  leading  to  thought  culture. 

Many  an  inventor,  projector,  or  financier  has  failed,  not 
because  his  schemes  were  not  good  as  isolated  projects, 
but  because  they  were  not  sufficiently  closely  related  to 
human  needs.  A  so-called  crank  becomes  ridiculous  be- 
cause he  will  not  study  general  conditions  sufficiently  to 
see  that  his  hobby  cannot  be  brought  into  practical  rela- 
tions with  them.  No  matter  what  a  man's  business  is,  the 
close  study  of  relations  is  all-important  for  his  success. 

Some  capitalists  built  a  street-car  line  in  a  certain  town, 
without  sufficiently  considering  the  number  that  would 
probably  travel  each  day  and  comparing  that  number  with 
the  daily  expenses,  without  reflecting  on  the  sources  of  the 
town's  growth  and  the  direction  that  its  expansion  would 
take.  After  a  struggle  the  company  failed.  It  is  well  for 


224  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

the  learner  to  note  the  precise  grounds  of  failure,  to  realize 
that  it  was  due  to  lack  of  fully  thinking  out  things  in  their 
relation  to  other  things.  There  was  no  failure  in  building 
the  line.  That  was  perfectly  feasible.  Street-car  lines 
had  been  built  again  and  again.  Horses  or  electricity 
could  draw  the  cars  ;  conductors  could  be  found.  But  the 
expense  of  building  and  running  the  line  did  not  stand  in 
the  proper  relation  to  the  number  of  people  who  would 
ride,  nor  was  the  direction  of  the  line  properly  related  to 
the  suburban  growth  of  the  place. 

The  promoters  of  a  new  town  built  some  rather  ex- 
pensive dwellings  at  the  start  and  lost  heavily  on  them, 
because  the  relation  of  the  locality  to  the  class  of  people 
who  would  live  there  had  not  been  studied.  A  little 
reflection  might  have  shown  workingmen  to  be  the  only 
probable  inhabitants,  and  they  could  afford  only  inexpen- 
sive dwellings. 

Whenever  one  learns  a  new  thing,  apparently  unrelated 
to  any  other  part  of  his  knowledge,  he  should  make  haste 
to  form  connections.  In  doing  this,  he  will  think. 

Accuracy  of  Concepts.  —  As  a  foundation  for  thinking, 
it  is  necessary  to  form  not  only  concepts,  but  accurate 
concepts.  For  instance,  every  person  probably  has  some 
idea  of  chivalry.  Let  him  ask  himself  to  enumerate  the 
qualities  in  that  concept.  There  will  probably  pass  before 
his  mind  knights  clad  in  steel  armor,  a  tournament  or  a 
battlefield,  great  deference  to  ladies,  conflicts  in  behalf  of 
the  weak,  strong  castles,  etc.  A  concept  of  chivalry  con- 
taining only  such  ideas  would  be  very  faulty.  A  half  truth 
may  be  as  bad  as  a  lie.  No  accurate  inferences  concerning 
chivalry  could  be  made  from  such  a  concept.  The  great 
Edward  I.  of  England  was  certainly  better  than  the  average 


THOUGHT  CULTURE.  22$ 

knight.  When  he  and  the  English  were  fighting  the 
French,  the  wounded  French  knights  were,  indeed,  ten- 
derly cared  for  by  their  enemies,  but  the  peasants  and 
the  common  foot  soldiers  were  knocked  in  the  head. 
Chivalry  taught  the  knight  to  be  courteous  to  his  equals 
and  superiors ;  he  might  treat  the  others  as  he  chose. 
When  the  French  king  and  his  nobles  were  captured  by 
that  type  of  a  chivalrous  knight,  the  Black  Prince,  he 
invited  them  to  supper  and  waited  on  his  noble  prisoners 
with  his  own  hands.  At  another  time,  he  killed  off  like 
sheep  the  common  people  in  a  French  town.  The  knight 
repeatedly  stole  the  crops,  animals,  and  labor  of  the  com- 
mon people. 

After  one  has  formed  an  accurate  concept  of  chivalry, 
he  ought  to  be  able  to  see  how  the  French  Revolution  was 
its  logical  outcome,  and  how  strikes  to-day  are  sometimes 
due  to  analogous  causes.  He  ought,  then,  to  detect  iden- 
tical qualities  in  certain  institutions  of  to-day.  He  may 
observe  that  the  polite  officers  or  stockholders  in  a  trust 
may  be  very  chivalrous  to  their  wealthy  equals ;  while  the 
poor,  who  have  been  made  to  pay  the  trust's  prices,  may 
be  caused  actual  suffering.  The  person  who  forms  his 
concepts  in  this  thorough  way  and  then  traces  out  rela- 
tions between  them  and  other  concepts,  is  thinking,  and 
thinking  hard. 

Language  ready  made  for  our  memories  has  done  much 
to  cripple  thought.  No  one  should  ever  use  a  term  with- 
out being  able  to  form  the  clearest  possible  concept  of  it. 
"  The  church  is  built  of  granite."  The  speaker  ought  to 
be  able  to  give  a  definition  of  granite.  A  definition  merely 
sets  forth  the  essential  qualities  in  anything.  There  are 
persons  who  will  speak  of  brass,  bronze,  and  steel,  without 
knowing  whether  they  are  simple  metals  and  without 


226  -  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

being  able  to  define  them.  Such  concepts  of  brass,  bronze, 
and  steel  are  not  worth  much.  The  young  who  alloy? 
themselves  to  form  indefinite  concepts,  will  not  be  accurate 
thinkers.  In  their  old  age,  they  will  perhaps  talk  about 
psychology  and  metaphysics  without  being  able  to  tell  the 
difference  between  the  two.  As  a  practical  rule,  we  should 
form  a  clear  concept  of  every  term ;  we  should  define  it, 
and  then  we  should  notice  all  possible  relations  between 
it  and  other  concepts. 

Classification. — Whenever  a  person  is  comparing  a 
specimen  to  see  whether  it  may  be  put  in  the  same  class 
with  other  specimens,  he  is  thinking.  Comparison  is  an 
absolutely  essential  factor  of  thought,  and  classification 
demands  comparison.  The  man  who  has  not  properly 
classified  the  myriad  individual  objects  with  which  he  has 
to  deal  must  advance  like  a  cripple.  He,  only,  can  travel 
with  seven  league  boots,  who  has  thought  out  the  relations 
existing  between  these  stray  individuals  and  put  them  into 
their  proper  classes.  In  a  minute,  a  business  man  may 
put  his  hand  on  any  one  of  ten  thousand  letters,  if  they 
are  properly  classified.  In  the  same  way,  the  student  of 
history,  sociology,  or  any  other  branch,  can,  if  he  studies 
the  subjects  aright,  have  all  his  knowledge  classified  and 
speedily  available  for  use. 

The  greatest  care  must  be  exercised  in  making  classi- 
fications. Accurate  perception  and  careful  comparison  are 
absolutely  necessary.  The  science  of  zoology  furnishes 
a  striking  example  of  important  changes  in  classification, 
because  the  former  classifications  were  founded  upon  insuf- 
ficient investigation  and  comparison.  At  different  periods, 
zoologists  have  made  various  classifications  of  animals, 
differing  in  very  essential  particulars  from  the  present 


THOUGHT  CULTURE.  22? 

one,  which  divides  all  animals  into  eight  great  subking 
doms:  Protozoa,  consisting  of  the  very  lowest  forms  of 
animal  life,  many  of  which  were  formerly  placed  under 
plants ;  Polystomata,  or  sponges ;  Coelenterata,  or  corals 
and  polyps ;  Echinodermata,  including  jelly  fishes  and  sea 
anemones ;  Vermes,  or  worms ;  Mollusca,  including  oysters, 
snails,  etc. ;  Arthropoda,  including  lobsters,  insects,  etc. ; 
and  Vertebrata,  including  the  highest  forms  of  animal  life. 
These  subkingdoms  have  been  formed  after  close  examina- 
tion of  all  known  animal  life,  and  the  student  now  deter- 
mines to  which  subkingdom  a  given  specimen  belongs  by 
comparing  its  features  with  the  characterizing  features  of 
the  various  branches.  Should  an  animal  be  discovered 
which  could  not  be  classified  under  one  of  these  sub- 
kingdoms,  a  new  subkingdom  would  have  to  be  formed 
for  it. 

The  broad  distinctions  in  this  most  general  classifica- 
tion of  animals  instance,  in  a  remarkable  way,  the  great 
power  of  a  thinking  mind  to  discover  the  relations  of  iden- 
tity in  superficially  dissimilar  animals  and  their  organs. 
It  certainly  took  an  unusually  thoughtful  mind  to  trace 
the  similarity  in  mammals,  birds,  reptiles,  batrachians,  and 
fishes,  and  to  place  all  these  various  classes  of  animals  in 
the  subkingdom  of  vertebrata ;  and  also  to  see  the  iden- 
tity  between  the  fins  of  a  fish,  the  wings  of  a  bird,  and  the 
arms  of  a  man. 

The  method  of  classification  in  zoology  will  furnish  an 
example  of  how  the  student  should  go  to  work  to  classify  the 
various  phenomena  which  present  themselves  to  him.  He 
should  always  begin  with  the  broad,  major  classifications, 
and  proceed  from  them  to  the  more  narrow  and  specialized 
ones.  Thus,  if  a  certain  animal  is  to  be  classified,  the 
student  should  first  determine  to  which  of  the  eight  sub 


228  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 

kingdoms  it  belongs.  Then  he  should  proceed  to  the  next 
lower  group  (the  class),  and,  if  the  animal  is  a  vertebrate, 
determine  whether  it  is  a  mammal,  bird,  reptile,  batrachian, 
or  fish.  After  this,  the  order,  family,  genus,  species,  and 
variety  should  successively  be  ascertained. 

It  is  a  good  plan  to  notice  how  the  addition  of  a  differ- 
entiating quality  to  a  class  further  subdivides  that  class. 
For  instance,  a  class  of  greater  extent,  plus  the  differen- 
tiating quality  or  qualities,  equals  a  narrower  class.  For 
example  :  animal  +  a  backbone  =  vertebrate  ;  vertebrate 
+  the  quality  of  breathing  by  lungs  +  bringing  forth 
young  alive  +  suckling  the  young  =  mammal  (class) ; 
mammal  -f  flesh-eating  =  carnivore  (order).  The  family, 
genus,  species,  and  variety  may  be  represented  in  like 
manner. 

In  this  way,  we  may  make  our  knowledge  of  the  world 
more  minutely  exact.  We  cannot  classify  without  seeing 
things  under  a  new  aspect. 

The  Search  for  Analogies.  —  In  argument  or  reasoning 
we  are  much  aided  by  the  habit  of  searching  for  hidden 
resemblances.  We  may  here  use  the  term  analogy  in  the 
narrower  sense  as  a  resemblance  of  ratios.  There  is  ana- 
logical relation  between  autumnal  frosts  and  vegetation  on 
the  one  hand,  and  death  and  human  life  on  the  other. 
Frosts  stand  in  the  same  relation  to  vegetation  that  death 
does  to  life.  The  detection  of  such  a  relation  cultivates 
thought. 

If  we  are  to  succeed  in  argument,  we  must  develop  what 
some  call  a  sixth  sense  for  the  detection  of  such  relations. 
Suppose  the  question  of  woman  suffrage  is  under  discus- 
sion. A  woman  has  to  pay  a  tax  on  a  large  tract  of 
ground.  The  voters  in  her  township  meet  to  decide 


THOUGHT  CULTURE.  229 

whether  a  new  road  shall  be  laid  out,  which  will  cause  a 
heavy  increase  in  the  tax  rate.  A  man  without  a  cent 
may  vote ;  the  woman  cannot.  Now,  an  analogical  mind 
will  at  once  remember  why  the  Revolution  broke  out,  and 
the  watchword,  "No  taxation  without  representation,"  will 
be  thought  of.  If  some  chivalrous  men  say  that  they,  by 
their  votes,  will  give  what  they  consider  fair  representation 
to  the  woman,  they  may  be  reminded  that  the  English  said 
the  same  thing  to  the  colonists  ;  but  the  colonists  insisted 
on  representing  themselves.  If  an  opponent  abandons 
that  phase  of  the  argument,  but  insists  that  woman's  suf- 
frage was  tried  somewhere  for  two  years  without  proving  a 
glittering  success,  another  search  must  be  made  for  anal- 
ogous instances.  An  apprentice  in  learning  how  to  use 
tools  cannot  be  expected  to  use  them  well  at  first.  Almost 
all  revolutions  have  been  immediately  followed  by  a  worse 
state  of  affairs. 

John  Stuart  Mill,  in  his  essay  on  The  Subjection  of 
Women,  deals  the  strongest  blows  from  analogy.  If  it  is 
said  that  the  various  professions  ought  not  to  be  thrown 
open  to  women  because  they  are  unfitted  for  them,  the 
reply  is  that  a  law  ought  then  to  be  passed  deterring  men 
from  employing  a  blacksmith  with  a  weak  right  arm.  If  it 
is  objected  that  such  a  law  would  be  silly,  for  natural  com- 
petition would  exclude  such  a  blacksmith,  the  retort  is  that 
a  law  keeping  woman  out  of  any  of  the  professions  is  silly, 
for  if  she  is  not  fitted  for  them  competition  will  drive  her 
out.  If  it  is  urged  that  she  will  become  fitted  at  the 
expense  of  feminine  qualities,  the  reply  is  that  nature  is 
powerful  enough  to  attend  to  that  without  artificial  restric- 
tions. A  cat  may  be  fond  of  fish,  but  it  is  unnecessary  to 
fence  in  the  ponds  for  fear  the  cats  will  rush  in  and  either 
drown  themselves  or  usurp  the  sphere  of  ducks.  The 


230  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

feline  nature  is  strong  enough  to  keep  the  cat  where  it 
belongs.  Exceptions  to  the  rule  will  perish  without  exert- 
ing any  lasting  influence. 

Many  false  analogies  are  manufactured,  and  it  is  excel- 
lent thought  training  to  expose  them.  The  majority  of 
people  think  so  little  that  they  swallow  false  analogies 
just  as  newly  fledged  robins  swallow  small  stones  dropped 
into  their  open  mouths.  An  American  wrote  home  from 
abroad  that  our  country  was  much  richer  than  England 
and  might  just  as  well  as  not  have  roads  as  excellent  as 
those  in  England.  His  remarks  were  widely  applauded 
by  the  unthinking.  England  is  about  the  size  of  Alabama. 
If  the  United  States  occupied  an  area  proportionately 
small  to  her  population,  she  could  have  equally  good 
roads.  If  she  had  them  now  over  her  broad  domains, 
her  people  would  stagger  under  a  debt  that  would  inca- 
pacitate them  for  other  things.  If  a  person  said  we  were 
arguing  that  we  should  not  have  better  roads,  he  would  be 
incapable  of  apprehending  the  relation  of  identity  ;  for  that 
is  not  the  principle  involved  in  the  discussion. 

This  tendency  to  think  as  others  do  must  be  resisted 
somewhere  along  the  line,  or  there  can  be  no  progress. 
When  Dr.  Johnson  was  asked  if  a  great  prose  writer  could 
also  be  a  great  poet,  the  Doctor  replied  :  "  Certainly ;  a 
man  can  walk  as  far  east  as  west."  The  analogy  is  false. 
The  same  muscular  movements  will  enable  a  man  to  walk 
in  either  direction  ;  the  same  faculty  will  not  enable  him 
<o  write  both  prose  and  poetry. 

The  study  of  poetry  may  be  made  very  serviceable  in 
detecting  analogies  and  cultivating  the  reasoning  powers. 
When  the  poet  brings  clearly  to  mind  the  change  due  to 
death,  using  as  an  illustration  the  caterpillar  body  trans- 
formed into  the  butterfly  spirit,  moving  with  winged  ease 


THOUGHT  CULTURE.  231 

over  flowering  meadows,  he  is  cultivating  our  apprehen- 
sion of  relations,  .none  the  less  y_aluable_because  they  are 
beautiful 


y^x 

Xvv/Br 


readth  Of  Thought  Culture.  —  Success  in  this  complex 
world  demands  breadth  of  thought.     When  we  come  to 
engage  in  active  work,  our  mental  force  will  probably  be 
almost  entirely  concentrated  upon  it.     If_a_iiroad.fouada>p- 
lion  is  not  laid  early,  it  will  never  be  obtained;  for  the    ' 
cares  of  life  put  us  in  a  treadmill  ;  they  may  permit  us  to 
think  on  foundations  already  laid,  but  we  shall  be  allowed 
to  build  no  new  ones.  "  We  shall  then  think  in  ruts  ;  and 
it  will  be  well  if  they  extend  in  many  different  directions. 

Some  of  the  most  eminent  practitioners  of  medicine 
have  said  that  it  is  dangerous  for  patients  to  go  to  a 
specialist  at  first,  because  he  is  apt  to  see  in  them  the 
complaint  which  he  treats,  and  not  see  the  remote  cause  of 
the  complaint.  The  best  specialists  are  those  who  have 
acquired  wide  experience  in  general  practice,  for  then  they 
can  take  a  broader  view  of  the  field  of  disease.  If  a 
student  entered  a  professional  school  at  once,  instead  of 
going  through  college,  he  would  not  have  laid  the  founda- 
tions for  broad  thinking.  A  lawyer  trained  to  think  to 
the  thirty-two  points  of  the  compass  will  often  scent 
danger,  and  see  points  invisible  to  the  less  cultivated, 
which  will  enable  him  to  win  cases.  A  business  man 
who  has  a  general  knowledge  of  affairs  will  detect  a  flaw 
in  an  enterprise  before  he  has  invested,  and  not,  like  the 
majority,  see  the  flaw  too  late. 

A  man  of  wide  culture  and  experience  said  that  he  had 
learned  that  men  skilled  merely  in  their  own  profession 
needed  close  supervision.  He  invariably  remained  to 
watch  plumbers,  carpenters,  and  other  mechanics  engaged 


232  PSYCHOLOGY  AND    PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

upon  his  house.  They  were  accustomed  to  thinking  in 
such  a  narrow  rut  that  he  was  often  able,  from  appre- 
hending broader  relations,  to  tell  them  how  to  do  their 
work  better,  or  why  a  certain  plan  would  not  be  practical. 
He  said  that  he  had  found  that  even  a  plumber  was  worth 
double  wages,  if  he  was  a  broad  thinker.  This  cultivated 
man  was  a  college  graduate ;  and,  though  a  business  man, 
he  declared  that  all  his  knowledge,  from  chemistry  .and 
physics  on  the  one  hand,  to  political  economy  and  psy- 
chology on  the  other,  enabled  him  to  conduct  his  business 
more  successfully. 

It  has  often  been  said  that  to  know  one  thing  thoroughly 
would  be  to  know  the  entire  universe,  for  everything  has 
either  direct  or  indirect  relations  to  all  other  things.  One 
thing  never  means  anything  except  in  relation  to  other 
things,  and  the  more  various  its  relations,  the  more  it 
means  to  us.  Mr.  Gladstone  made  a  better  statesman 
because  his  diverse  knowledge  enabled  him  to  see  all  sides 
of  a  question.  The  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey,  which  he  studied 
so  carefully,  seem  a  long  way  from  the  science  of  modern 
government,  yet  he  obtained  many  helpful  hints  from  them. 
There  is  always  an  educating  relation  between  any  two 
things,  if  a  mind  is  acute  enough  to  perceive  it.  Such 
an  intellect  can  mine  gold  anywhere. 

Thought  Culture  and  Individuality.  —  There  are  many 
persons  to  whom  the  epithets,  "fickle"  and  "rattle-brained," 
are  very  properly  applied.  An  idea  on  any  one  subject 
is  never  detained  in  their  minds  long  enough  for  them  to 
become  acquainted  with  it.  No  one  ever  knows  how  to 
forecast  their  conduct,  because  no  one  can  foretell  what 
dominant  idea  will  happen  to  control  them  at  any  given 
time.  Stability  of  characte  •  is  erected  on  a  foundation  of 


THOUGHT  CULTURE.  333 

definite  thought.  To  secure  this,  does  not  require  one  to 
tie  himself  down  for  life  to  a  single  idea  or  subject ;  but 
he  must  study  whatever  he  takes  up,  until  he  has  firmly 
grasped  its  relations  to  other  subjects. 

Fickleness  is  the  great  enemy  of  thought  culture,  and 
of  a  knowledge  of  self.  The  ideas  in  the  minds  of  many 
change  so  often  that  they  have  no  consecutive  and  deter- 
minate self  ;  in  consequence,  no  one,  not  even  themselves, 
can  place  dependence  upon  their  actions  in  any  given  case., 

Effect  of  Novel  Reading  on  Thought.  —  For  proper  nutri- 
tion, it  is  necessary  that  food  should  remain  a  certain 
length  of  time  in  the  stomach.  Digestion,  mental  or  phys- 
ical, takes  time.  Ideas  must  be  kept  in  the  mind  until 
their  relations  to  other  ideas  can  be  thought  out.  No 
mental  nutriment  can  be  received  from  them  if  they  pass 
through  the  mind  at  a  galloping  pace.  In  our  study  of 
memory,  we  saw  that  rapidly  skimming  over  a  subject  to 
pass  an  examination  brought  no  permanent  results,  because 
things  did  not  stay  long  enough  before  the  mind  for  it  to 
connect  them  to  other  things  by  their  relations.  Acquisi- 
tions of  this  sort  speedily  pass  out  of  the  mind. 

The  rapid  devouring  of  novels  is  fatal  to  thought.  No 
idea  is  allowed  to  linger ;  the  mind  rushes  on  from  one 
exciting  scene  to  another  in  as  quick  succession  as  possible, 
ever  calling  for  more  excitement.  One  novel  is  finished 
and  another  begun.  No  time  is  left  for  perfect  digestion. 
The  circulation  of  many  general  libraries  averages  eighty 
per  cent  of  fiction.  They  deserve  to  be  known  as  aiders 
and  abettors  in  killing  thought.  The  minds  of  inveterate 
novel  readers  are  apt  soon  to  become  so  unsuited  to  severe 
thought,  that  they  regard  it  with  as  much  aversion  as  a 
rheumatic  person  does  a  foot  race. 


234  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 

How  Fiction  May  Serve  to  Cultivate  Thought.  —  Since 
fiction  is  certain  to  be  widely  read,  it  is  important  to  know 
how  it  may  be  made  to  cultivate  the  thinking  powers.  If 
persons  would  read  a  novel  with  the  same  care  as  a  history, 
as  much  mental  discipline  might  result.  Every  move  of 
the  character  in  fiction  ought  to  be  compared  with  actions 
in  real  life.  Would  real  persons  develop  new  emotions 
and  change  old  ones  as  quickly  and  for  the  same  reasons 
as  those  on  the  printed  page  ?  The  principle  of  comparison 
between  the  fictitious  and  the  real  may  be  brought  in  at 
every  step.  Thought  consists  essentially  in  comparing,  in 
noting  likenesses  and  differences;  and  it  cannot  be  re- 
peated too  often  that  all  mental  exercise  of  this  sort  tends 
to  cultivate  thought  in  the  only  true  way. 

Again,  after  finishing  one  chapter,  the  reader  ought  to 
endeavor  to  forecast  the  following  chapter.  When  the 
hero  and  heroine  are  plunged  into  difficulties,  or  the  action 
seems  in  general  to  be  taking  the  wrong  course,  the  reader 
should  lay  down  his  book  and  ask  himself  how  he  would 
set  things  right,  how  he  would  avoid  a  certain  catastrophe. 
By  so  doing,  he  will  develop  the  power  of  constructive 
thought.  This  practice  would  serve  him  in  good  stead  in 
the  actual  difficulties  of  his  own  life.  He  would  think  his 
way  out  of  trouble  quicker.  When  he  found  himself  in  a 
corner,  his  nimble-witted  mind  might  suggest  several 
alternatives  of  escape,  while  one  who  had  not  thus  trained 
his  thinking  power  might  see  no  way  out  until  too  late. 
Many  a  lawyer,  doctor,  business  man,  has  said  to  him 
self :  "  If  I  could  only  have  seen  that  other  alternative 
before  the  case  was  lost,  the  patient  dead,  the  enterprise 
ruined." 

It  would  be  considerable  trouble  to  read  a  novel  in  the 
way  indicated,  to  forecast  each  chapter,  and  to  devise  as 


THOUGHT  CULTURE.  235 

many  ways  as  possible  of  unraveling  the  plot;  but  the 
results  would  be  worth  the  trouble.  It  is  always  more 
work  to  mine  gold  than  coal.  If  one  who  has  read  his 
fiction  in  this  way  will  go  out  into  the  world  and  keep  up 
such  practice  when  confronted  with  real  difficulties,  he  will 
forge  ahead  of  those  companions  who  started  with  the 
same  ability.  This  world  demands  for  success  not  only 
plenty  of  thought,  but  quickness  of  thought.  More  than 
half  the  world  thinks  after  it  is  too  late.  How  often  do 
we  hear  people  exclaiming,  "  I  wish  I  had  thought  of  that 
in  season."  One  ought  not  to  expect  to  do  anything 
quickly  without  special  practice  in  that  direction.  Even 
the  hands  will  not  move  nimbly  over  the  piano  keys  with- 
out frequent  practice. 

The  novels  of  Scott,  Dickens,  Reade,  Collins,  are,  many 
of  them,  no  less  remarkable  for  their  insight  into  human 
nature  than  for  the  ingenuity  of  their  plots.  In  these 
they  are  immeasurably  superior  to  the  majority  of  later 
writers.  These  older  authors  will  furnish  plenty  of  ma- 
terial for  the  exercise  of  constructive  thought.  When  one 
wishes  to  study  the  evolution  of  human  character  in  its 
various  phases,  and  to  compare  the  development  indicated 
by  the  author,  with  the  course  of  such  development  in 
actual  life,  he  will  find  the  novels  of  Thackeray,  Haw- 
thorne, and  George  Eliot  superior  for  that  purpose.  Let 
the  student  read  Vanity  Fair  and  then  write  an  essay  on 
the  development  of  Becky  Sharp's  character  and  compare 
it  with  Amelia  Sedley's.  After  finishing  Romola,  let  him 
trace  the  growth  of  the  differing  emotions  in  the  leading 
characters  and  institute  close  comparison  between  them, 
noting  the  likenesses  and  the  differences.  If  studied  as 
we  have  indicated,  fiction  will,  in  its  own  way,  be  as  ser- 
viceable as  mathematics  for  training  thought. 


PSYCHOLOGY   AND    PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 


Influence  of  Thought  Culture  on  Character.  —  The  cause 
of  morals  has  no  more  powerful  aid  than  the  thinking 
faculty.  Many  persons  are  selfishly  inconsiderate,  and 
cause  a  great  deal  of  trouble  simply  because  they  do  not 
think.  They  are  surprised  when  the  results  of  their 
thoughtlessness  are  laid  clearly  before  them.  Of  course 
it  i?  possible  to  think  in  order  to  be  more  rascally  ;  but 
the  deepest  thought  has  ever  shown  that  the  influence  of 
the  great  moral  laws  lies  in  the  direction  of  human  good; 
and  history  has  shown,  in  the  destruction  of  vast  empires 
and  the  backward  steps  in  the  march  of  progress,  that 
neglect  of  those  laws  is  followed  by  disastrous  conse- 
quences. Animals  have  been  treated  better  since  man 
was  led  to  reflect  carefully  on  their  condition. 

Consistency  has  been  called  a  jewel,  and  it  is  a  gem  not 
;worn  by  the  thoughtless.      Consistency  demands  careful] 
/thought,  the  comparison  of  one's  present  with  one's  past/ 
conduct,  and  of   one's  self  with  others.     Again,  persons'* 
often  blame  another  for  a  course  of  action  ;  when  a  like 
circumstance  arises  later,  it  finds  them  guilty  of  perhaps 
worse  deeds.    Thoughtless  people  daily  complain  of  a  mote 
in  the  eye  of  another,  when  there  is  a  beam  in  their  own. 

An  officer  and  stockholder  in  a  trust  criticised  Napoleori 
severely  for  selfishness  and  unscrupulousness  in  attaining 
his  own  ends.  The  director  of  that  trust  had  sought  every 
means  to  drive  competitors  to  the  wall.  He  had  succeeded 
in  placing  his  iron  heel  on  the  neck  of  consumers  and  of 
workmen.  He  had  striven  as  unscrupulously  as  Napoleon 
to  make  his  trust  absolute  in  power.  The  mosquito  was 
calling  the  lion  bloodthirsty. 

Men  belonging  to  labor  trusts  object  to  other  trusts. 
These  men  band  together  to  keep  the  price  of  labor  high 
and  to  restrain  any  competing  laborer  from  working.  He 


THOUGHT  CULTURE.  237 

may  need  to  work  for  his  starving  children,  but  the  labor 
trust  menaces  his  life  and  limb  if  he  attempts  to  mine  coal, 
to  handle  freight,  or  to  take  the  place  of  one  who  has  left 
his  position. 

Those  who  have  not  been  early  trained  to  see  ail  sides 
of  a  question  are  apt  to  be  extremely  narrow,  and  undesir- 
able to  live  with.  Whenever  one  finds  himself  blaming 
other  persons,  he  ought  immediately  to  recall  his  own  acts 
for  comparison,  and  see  if  none  of  them  is  in  like  manner 
blameworthy.  By  discovering  the  relation  of  identity  in 
this  way,  the  thinking  and  the  moral  faculties  will  receive 
some  of  their  very  best  training. 


Value  of  Special  Studies.  —  Sn  far  a«  thought  cultivation! 

is  concerned,  it  makes  far  more  difference  how  a  subject  is 
studied  than  what  the  subject  is.  The  study  of  Shake- 
speare, or  any  good  literature,  will  serve  as  well  as  mathe- 
matics, if  the  student  is  careful  to  form  accurate  concepts 
of  every  term,  to  link  these  logically  together,  and  to  note 
all  points  of  attachment  of  new  knowledge  to  old.  Special 
studies  tend  to  cultivate  one  in  noting  special  relations 
only.  As  before  said,  this  narrowness  may  be  avoided  by 
not  specializing  too  early  in  life. 

Time  for  Thought  Culture.  —  In  recent  years  the  ten- 
dency has  been  to  force  the  detection  of  obscure  abstract 
relations  upon  children  at  too  early  an  age.  A  young  man 
was  heard  to  say  with  considerable  bitterness  :  "  My  in 
structors  compelled  me  to  misuse  my  time  doubly.  When 
I  should  have  been  perceiving  and  memorizing,  they 
worried  me  with  difficult  thinking.  Now,  when  I  should 
be  thinking,  I  have  to  spend  my  time  perceiving  and 
memorizing  to  get  something  in  my  mind  to  think  about 


238 


PSYCHOLOGY   AND    PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 


Memory  work  would  have  been  fourfold  easier  for  me  then 
/thinking  is  tenfold  easier  for  me  now." 

In  early  life  the  detection  of  only  the  more  evident 
thought  relations  in  perceived  objects,  geography,  history, 
and  language,  should  be  expected.  Nature  did  not  blunder 
in  making  the  faculties  of  perception  and  memory  the 
most  active  in  youth.  Deep  thinking  must  not  be  required 
until  later.  Sir  Walter  Scott  says  that  he,  early  in  life, 
amassed  a  vast  amount  of  facts  connected  by  no  deep 
thought  relations.  He  likens  himself  at  that  time  to  a 
man  with  a  good  hand  of  cards,  who  neither  knew  their 
value  nor  how  to  play  them.  Later  he  learned  how  to 
play  them  with  effect.  Some  persons  would  have  spent 
all  their  energy  in  learning  how  to  play,  and  then  they 
would  have  had  no  cards.  On  the  other  hand,  it  must  not 
be  forgotten  that  Scott's  knowledge  would  have  been  of 
no  use  to  him,  had  he  nyt  afterwards  woven  it  together 
with  thought  relations. 


CHAPTER   X. 

FEELING  AND  EMOTION. 


\V/^  GENERAL  ASPECT  OF  AFFECTIVE  MENTAL  STATES. 


Feeling.  —  riffling  rmy  bft  ritfiiyflj  as  the  simple  agree- 
able or  disagreeable  side  of  gjjymental  state.  We  can 
interpret  feeling  only  in  terms  of  our  own  conscious 
experience.  If  we  have  never  felt  pleasure,  pain,  fear, 
or  sorrow,  a  quarto  volume  cannot  make  us  understand 
what  such  a  mental  state  is. 

Some  psychologists  claim  that  there  are  states  of  mind 
absolutely  neutral  in  regard  to  pleasurable  or  painful 
feeling,  that  we  can  feel  when  the  feeling  is  neither 
agreeable  nor  disagreeable.  Others  think  that  feeling 
devoid  of  all  pleasure  or  pain  would  resemble  the  play  of 
Hamlet  with  Hamlet  left  out.  If  there  are  perfectly 
neutral  feelings,  they  incite  to  nothing  ;  hence  we  may 
pass  them  by  hurriedly  in  a  practical  world  of  action. 

Difference  between  Sensation  and  Feeling.  —  So  com- 
plicated and  interwoven  are  all  the  mental  powers,  that 
it  is  difficult  to  isolate  them  for  a  clear  view.  Practical 
experiment  has,  however,  shown  that  when  a  corn  was 
touched  with  a  stick,  the  tactile  sensation  was  present  in 
consciousness  from  one  to  two  seconds  before  the  feeling 
of  pain.  A  psychologist,  with  his  hands  folded  behind 
him,  was  standing  near  a  stove.  As  he  stepped  backward, 
he  came  in  contact  with  it,  and  he  had  the  sensation  of 

239 


240  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

touch  an  appreciable  time  before  he  felt  pain.  The  sensa- 
tional factor  enters  into  states  of  knowledge  ;  that  of  feel- 
ing, into  ejnptjon. 

There  is  a  second  marked  way  in  which  we  can  dis- 
tinguish sensation  and  feeling.  By  practice  we  assign 
our  sensations  to  things  external  to  ourselves.  We  place 
the  color  in  the  apple,  not  in  our  eye  or  mind.  If  some 
one  in  a  fit  of  passion  throws  an  apple  at  me  and  causes 
me  pain,  I  cannot  put  the  feeling  in  the  apple.  The  feel- 
ing is  my  own  internal,  subjective  state.  The  sensation 
seems  more  external  and.  objective.  The  apple  might  be 
there  if  we  were  not  there  to  view  it ;  not  so  the  feeling. 
My  feelings  belong  to  me ;  but  my  sensations  seem  to 
belong  to  the  object  which  caused  them. 

Importance  of  Feeling.  —  The  phenomena  of  the  world 
have  value  for  us  only  in  so  far  as  they  affect  our  feelings. 
If  a  thing  fails  to  interest  us,  that  is,  fails  to  touch  our  feel- 
ings at  any  point,  we  pass  that  thing  by  unheeded.  Much 
of  what  people  say  to  us  passes  in  at  one  ear  and  out  at  the 
other;  but  if  we  are  told  of  the  death  of  a  parent,  the 
effect  of  the  announcement  may  never  pass  away.  Our 
feelings  have  been  touched,  and  we  shall  never  again  be 
the  same  persons.  A  studied  insult  or  a  signal  triumph 
affects  us  more  powerfully  than  many  other  things,  only 
because  it  appeals  more  deeply  to  feeling.  Decisions  in 
this  world  are  generally,  at  last,  made  at  the  bar  of  feeling. 
It  is  a  severer  impeachment  to  say  that  a  person  outrages 
our  feelings  than  that  he  is  illogical. 

How  Feelings  Differ.. —  Feeling  is  the  most  illusive  and 
changeable  of  all  the  mental  powers.  In  this  it  resembles 
the  classical  Proteus,  or  the  clouds  at  sunset.  Neverthe- 


FEELING  AND   EMOTION.  241 

less,  feeling  has  certain  prominent  characteristics  which 
serve  to  mark  its  varied  changes. 

Feelings  differ  (i)  in  quality,  (2)  in  intensity,  and  (3) 
according  to  whether  they  attach  themselves  to  chang- 
ing bodily  states  or  to  ideas. 

Quality  of  Feelings.  —  The  first  attribute  of  feeling  to 
force  itself  on  our  attention  is  a  pleasurable  or  painful 
quality.  The  moment  that  quinine  is  placed  upon  the 
tongue,  the  bitter  taste  is  painful  to  most  of  us.  In 
connection  with  a  sensation  from  candy  or  some  choice 
fruit,  we  experience  a  feeling  of  pleasure.  Life  is  largely 
a  struggle  to  secure  a  pleasurable  quality  in  feeling  and  to 
rush  away  from  a  painful  attribute.  Almost  any  one  will 
go  to  a  window  to  look  at  a  bright  rainbow,  because  it 
gives  him  pleasure.  We  do  not  look  straight  at  the  sun 
because  we  wish  to  avoid  a  painful  feeling.  Many  of  us 
dislike  to  see  ulcers  or  deformity  for  the  same  reason. 

In  addition  to  the  pleasurable  or  painful  element,  some 
would  say  that  feeling  was  distinguished  by  another  qual- 
ity,—  that  of  neutrality,  of  the  absence  of  either  pleasure  or 
pain.  It  is  said  that  when  we  are  sitting  in  our  chairs,  we 
often  experience  neither  pleasure  nor  pain ;  that  when  we 
are  slightly  surprised,  the  feeling  may  be  neutral.  The 
mere  fact  that  this  is  a  disputed  point  shows  that  such 
feelings  are  not  obtrusive.  If  there  are  such,  they  will 
never  become  powerful  motive  factors  in  our  conscious 
lives. 

Pleasure  and  pain  are  such  important  characteristics 
that  we  must  consider  them  at  greater  length. 

Relation  of  Nervous  Action  to  Pleasure  and  Pain. — 
Whenever  the  nervous  system  has  stored  force,  or  a  sur- 

HAI.IJKK'S  PSYC. —  1 6 


242 


PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 


plus  of  energy,  at  its  disposal,  pleasure  results  from  work- 
ing this  off  in  a  normal  way.  There  is  also  'pleasure  in 
recuperation,  or  in  accumulating  nervous  force  up  to  a 
certain  degree. 

Youthful  muscles  and  nerve  cells  are  repositories  of 
force.  The  young  resort  to  games  in  which  muscular 
activity  is  the  most  prominent  feature,  because  working 
off  this  surplus  energy  results  in  pleasure.  When  one 
is  tired,  pleasure  comes  from  merely  sitting  down  to 
rest.  Force  begins  to  accumulate,  and  contrast  is  here 
efficient  in  causing  a  pleasurable  glow  of  feeling.  Con- 
trast draws  the  attention  elsewhere,  and  thereby  involves 
the  use  of  force  stored  in  some  other  part  of  the  nervous 
system  ;  hence  a  new  kind  of  pleasure  is  coincident  with 
working  off  this  different  surplus.  Whenever  the  nervous 
system  is  stimulated  to  action  which  calls  for  more  than 
the  surplus  force,  pain  results.  Pain  also  follows  the  lack 
of  a  proper  outlet  for  this  stored  force. 

If  we  keep  on  walking  after  the  muscles  are  fatigued, 
they  will  pain  us.  Make  any  one  sit  still  without  exercise 
for  a  considerable  period,  and  pain  will  result  because  the 
stored  nervous  force,  like  water  running  against  a  milldam, 
demands  outlet.  This  pain  will  be  severe  in  proportion 
to  the  potential  energy.  It  will  be  much  more  irksome 
for  a  child  than  for  an  older  person  to  sit  still.  This 
stored  force  gorges  the  system,  forcing  certain  parts  to 
overwork,  to  make  amends  for  lack  of  outlet.  This  over- 
work causes  pain  in  special  parts  of  the  nervous  system 
after  their  stored  force  has  been  expended  in  trying  to 
keep  the  repressed  energy  within  normal  bounds. 

Dissipation  of  any  kind,  which  breaks  down  nerve  tissue 
faster  than  it  is  built  up,  is  certain  to  result  in  pain.  On 
the  other  hand,  mentally  initiated  emotions,  such  as  worry, 


FEELING  AND   EMOTION.  243 

fear,  and  grief,  have  broken  down  brain  cells  and  sent  per- 
sons to  the  insane  asylum. 

Physiological  chemistry  has  proved  that  mental  work 
is  accompanied  by  nervous  waste,  and  that  there  must 
be  periods  of  repose  to  supply  this  waste.  After  any  of 
the  pronounced  mental  emotions,  this  waste  is  especially 
apparent.  Two  eminent  physiologists  unite  in  saying : 
"  From  various  considerations  it  is  certain  that  pain  is 
always  the  result  of  a  change  in  the  nerve  cells  of  the 
brain."  It  must  be  remembered  that  pain  initiated  by 
purely  mental  causes  reacts  on  brain  cells  and  tends  to 
weaken  them,  while  mental  pleasure  involves  the  use  of 
stored  nerve  energy. 

Even  the  most  complex  states  of  feeling  and  ideal 
emotion  are  profoundly  modified  by  nervous  action.  If 
it  could  be  shown  that  they  were  ever  started  by  an  idea 
without  the  aid  of  a  nerve  cell,  they  would  yet  depend  on 
the  nervous  system  for  the  prolongation  of  their  states. 
When  the  nerves  were  utterly  exhausted,  they  would  no 
longer  respond  to  the  idea,  and  fainting  or  unconsciousness 
might  ensue.  Asceticism  taught  the  neglect  of  the  body. 
The  physiological  psychology  of  the  emotions  commands 
its  most  careful  nurture. 

Change  of  Pleasure  into  Pain  and  of  Pain  into  Pleasure. 
—  We  have  seen  that  pleasure  accompanies  the  expendi- 
ture of  potential  nervous  energy.  Since  all  finite  energy  is 
limited  in  amount,  the  fountain  finally  becomes  exhausted. 
If  actions  involving  further  expenditure  are  persisted  in, 
there  is  pain.  Indulgence  in  any  pleasurable  action  be4 
yond  the  limit  of  this  stored  force  is  followed  by  pain.  \ 

The  converse  is  not  true,  —  that  painful  action  beyond 
a  certain  limit  will  bring  pleasure ;  hence,  pain  seems  to 


244  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

have  the  advantage.  There  is,  however,  a  truth  that  we 
must  not  overlook :  Our  pleasures  in  many  cases  are  the 
result  of  preceding  painful  or  disagreeable  action.  If  we 
push  activity  slightly  beyond  the  point  where  pleasure 
ceases  and  pain  makes  its  appearance,  we  shall  find  that 
the  nervous  system  has  an  inherent  power  of  growth,  or 
of  enlarging  its  storage  facilities.  A  slight  degree  of  pain 
is  often  a  necessary  antecedent  to  that  growth.  In  this 
way  pleasure  extends  its  boundary  lines,  for  the  increased 
growth  affords  additional  pleasure.  Suppose  a  boy  finds 
pleasure  in  pulling  himself  overhand  up  eight  rounds  of  a 
ladder.  If  he  does  not  pass  beyond  this  point,  he  will  not 
develop  his  possibilities.  Let  him  take  ten  rounds  to-day, 
and  he  will  soon  find  that  his  capacity  for  additional  pleas- 
urable exertion  has  increased.  He  may  come  to  ascend 
thirty  rounds  without  a  feeling  of  pain.  The  entrance  to 
most  studies  is  attended  with  painful  labor;  but  after  a 
while  they  become  sources  of  positive  pleasure.  It  has 
been  well  said  that  acquired  tastes  are  so  many  acquired 
ways  of  getting  pleasure  from  things  which  were  once  dis- 
tasteful. Raw  oysters,  tomatoes,  and  pickled  olives  are 
physical  instances.  Many  studies  furnish  mental  illus- 
trations. 

Effect  of  Pronounced  Pains  upon  the  Nervous  System. 
—  After  what  has  been  said  in  the  preceding  section, 
the  caution  should  be  given  that  although  pain  may  be 
sometimes  necessary,  it  is  to  be  viewed  only  in  the  light 
of  a  necessary  evil,  or  as  a  warning  that  we  are  beginning 
to  overstep  the  bounds  of  proper  exercise.  Pain  tends  to 
break  down  and  disintegrate  the  nerve  cells  in  the  brain, 
and  to  render  the  sufferer  unfit  to  do  his  best  in  any  line 
of  work.  Physicians  tell  us  that  the  painful  element  in 


FEELING   AND   EMOTION.  245 

emotions  is  a  potent  factor  in  destroying  the  integrity  of 
the  nervous  system  and  in  permanently  impairing  the 
health.  Grant  Allen  makes  a  statement  in  the  main  true, 
when  he  says :  "  Pain  is  the  subjective  concomitant  of 
destructive  action  or  insufficient  nutrition  in  any  sen- 
tient tissue." 

When  we  consider  the  long  and  dark  pathway  which 
human  beings  have  trod,  we  can  see  why  the  survival  of 
the  race  demanded  pleasure  and  pain  as  primitive  psychical 
elements.  When  man  was  barbarous,  he  frequently  had 
only  pleasurable  feelings  to  tell  him  what  course  to  take, 
while  painful  ones  warned  him  what  path  to  shun.  Pain 
and  pleasure  are  probably  the  first  elements  that  stand  out 
most  distinctly  and  forcibly  in  the  infant's  consciousness. 
The  child  does  not  have  to  learn  what  pleasure  and  pain 
are.  It  is  not  necessary  to  teach  him  that  a  burn  is  pain- 
ful. Had  pleasure  and  pain  not  been  the  most  emphatic 
parts  of  the  earliest  human  experience,  the  race  would 
have  perished. 

Intensity  of  Feeling.  —  There  is  a  quantitative  as  well 
as  a  qualitative  difference  in  feeling.  The  discomfort 
from  the  bite  of  a  mosquito  is  not  so  massive  as  the  pain 
from  a  large  bruise  or  a  broken  limb.  Any  boy  would  say 
that  a  heaping  teaspoonful  of  ice  cream  would  give  him 
more  pleasure  than  an  amount  the  size  of  a  pea.  Within 
certain  narrow  limits,  the  intensity  of  the  feeling  is  pro- 
portional to  the  intensity  of  the  stimulus. 

One  of  the  most  important  factors  in  rha"g''"g  fh? 
intensity  nf  IWh'ng  i«t  fhp  rhiraHnn  nf  t^f  sHmiiliig  A 

continued  stimulus  of  the  same  kind  soon  dulls  nervous 
sensibility.  This  is  regained  in  full  measure  only  when  the 
stimulus  is  changed  or  intermitted  for  a  time.  The  noise 


346  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

in  a  cooperage  or  boiler-maker's  shop  is  almost  distracting 
for  a  while,  but  the  workmen  soon  cease  to  mind  the  din. 
On  entering  an  apothecary's  shop,  we  observe  a  character- 
istic odor,  but  the  clerks  do  not  notice  it.  Nervous 
energy  for  any  kind  of  response  is  limited.  If  the  stimu- 
lation is  continuous,  the  response  must  become  gradually 
less  energetic.  Before  vigor  can  be  restored,  there  must 
be  a  period  of  rest  sufficient  to  build  up  the  impaired 
tissue.  We  may  even  say  with  Hoffding  :  "  No  constant 
state,  but  only  a  change  effected  with  a  certain  sudden- 
ness, calls  to  life  a  nerve  process.  .  .  .  By  a  very  gradual 
increase  or  decrease  of  temperature,  a  frog  may  be  boiled 
or  frozen  to  death  without  making  the  smallest  movement." 

Jx^  v> 
Sense  Feelings  Contrasted  with  Ideal  Feelings.  —  Feel- 
~.&'s  rise  in  two  ways:  (i)  A  peripheral  excitation  —  for 
instance,  the  sting  of  a  bee  —  results  in  a  pronounced  feel- 
ing of  pain.  The  sight  of  autumnal  foliage,  the  sound  of 
a  melody,  a  caressing  touch,  may  furnish  cases  where  sim- 
ple nerve  pleasure  is  the  most  pronounced  element.  Of 
course  these  must  affect  the  mind  before  conscious  pleas- 
ure can  be  felt,  and  so  in  that  sense  the  feeling  may  be 
called  mental ;  but  the  pleasure  is  the  result  of  immediate 
external  stimulation  of  some  sense  organ.  Not  only  the 
special  senses,  but  any  vital  organ,  muscle,  or  nerve  may 
be  the  cause  of  feeling. 

(2)  Feelings  may  be  caused  by  an  idea.  The  remem- 
brance of  an  insult,  of  an  act  of  unkindness,  of  a  wrong 
done,  may  cause  acute  feeling.  The  memory  of  his  dead 
mother's  face  caused  the  stolid  Nero  pain.  There  may  be 
no  immediately  preceding  change  in  the  sense  organ  when 
an  idea  flashes  into  the  mind,  but  the  feeling  may  be  just 
as  pronounced  as  if  there  were.  Shakespeare  classified  the 


^ 


FEELING  AND   EMOTION.  247 

feelings  as  the  sensuous  and  the  ideal,  when  he  repre- 
sented the  pain  inflicted  by  the  wintry  wind  less  severe 
than  the  memory  of  man's  ingratitude. 

At  the  same  time  the  ideal  feelings  rest  indirectly  on 
sensory  foundations.  A  representative  idea  is  a  revived 
sensation,  or  a  complex  of  revived  sensations.  A  presenta- 
tive  idea  is  a  compound  of  the  intellectual  factors  of  sensa- 
tion and  of  feeling.  When  we  plunge  the  hand  into  very 
hot  water,  we  have  first  a  tactile  sensation  of  something 
denser  than  air,  and,  second,  a  feeling  of  pain.  Probably 
the  same  brain  tract  that  figured  in  the  original  sensation 
is  active  in  memory.  The  reawakened  action  in  the  same 
nerve  cells  would  reproduce  the  feeling  as  well  as  the  sen- 
sation, with  varying  degrees  of  distinctness.  Shakespeare 
voiced  the  most  advanced  psychology,  when  he  had  Mac- 
beth doubtfully  ask  the  doctor  whether  he  could 

"  Pluck  from  the  memory  a  rooted  sorrow, 
Raze  out  the  written  troubles  of  the  brain ." 

Feelings  Differ  Qualitatively  and  Quantitatively  Ac- 
cording to  the  Idea.  —  It  is  plain  that  some  ideas  cause 
a  joyful,  others  a  sorrowful,  mental  state,  and  that  joy  and 
sorrow  differ  in  the  quality  of  feeling.  As  we  read  the 
pages  of  David  Copperfield  or  Oliver  Twist,  the  constantly 
changing  ideas  usher  in  the  emotions  of  joy,  fear,  love, 
anger,  sympathy,  and  the  feeling  element  in  each  of  these 
emotions  is  qualitatively  different.  When  little  Oliver 
Twist  is  stolen  from  his  kind  benefactor  and  taken  to  a 
den  of  thieves ;  when  he  is  made  to  accompany  them  on  a 
housebreaking  expedition ;  when  he  is  left  insensible  with 
an  arm  mangled  by  a  pistol  shot ;  when  he  weakly  totters 
back  to  the  house  where  he  was  compelled  to  make  the 
attempt  at  robbery;  when  a  woman  standing  by  the  bed- 


248  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 

side  of  the  little  sleeping  sufferer  lets  fall  upon  his  face 
a  tear,  which  causes  a  smile  to  appear  as  if  he  were  dream- 
ing of  his  mother, — we  are  conscious  that  our  feelings 
differ  in  quality  as  the  ideas  change. 

The  following  example  will  show  how  ideas  may  cause 
feelings  to  vary  quantitatively.  If,  as  we  look  out  of  our 
window,  we  see  a  child  run  over,  our  feeling  will  change 
in  quantity  according  as  we  form  an  idea  that  the  child 
has  been  killed,  that  one  of  his  limbs  has  been  torn  off,  or 
that  he  has  escaped  with  only  a  few  scratches.  Our  feel- 
ing always  varies  quantitatively  according  as  the  idea  has 
a  more  or  less  pleasurable  or  painful  element. 

The  Rise  and  the  Decline  of  Feeling.  —  There  are  two 
factors  which  determine  the  rise  and  the  decline  of  feel- 
ing:  (i)  Feeling  will  increase  up  to  a  given  point  in  pro- 
portion to  the  intensity  of  the  stimuli  acting  upon  the 
nerves.  We  have  already  seen  that  we  may  class  ideas 
among  such  stimuli,  for  they  affect  the  nerves  powerfully, 
and  they  perpetuate  states  of  feeling.  When  the  nerve 
cells  have  used  up  their  stored  energy,  the  feeling  of  pleas- 
ure ceases.  Pain  then  increases  until  the  activity  of  the 
nerve  for  this  kind  of  response  is  exhausted.  In  both 
cases,  feelings  are  circumscribed  by  the  inability  of  nerve 
matter  to  continue  to  respond,  with  equal  intensity,  to  the 
same  stimulus  for  an  indefinite  length  of  time.  The  vic- 
tim on  the  rack  becomes  more  callous  to  pains.  The  pam- 
pered child  no  longer  finds  pleasure  in  the  same  luxuries. 

(2)  Attention  of  the  same  intensity  cannot  be  centered 
upon  the  same  stimuli  for  a  great  length  of  time.  Feeling 
will  increase  as  we  attend  to  it,  and  it  will  decline  as  we 
center  our  attention  elsewhere.  Brain  cells  are  active  in 
attention.  As  the  energy  at  their  disposal  is  limited, 


FEELING   AND   EMOTION.  249 

attention  centered  upon  the  same  sensation  or  idea  will 
grow  less  and  less  vigorous  and  the  connected  feeling 
will  proportionally  decline. 

EMOTION. 

Difference  between  Emotion  and  Feeling.  —  An  emo- 
tion is  the  complex  agreeable  or  disagreeable  side  of  any 
complete  mental  state.  We  have  already  seen  that  feeling 
is  the  simple  agreeable  or  disagreeable  side  of  any  mental 
activity. 

This  distinction  between  emotion  and  feeling  empha- 
sizes the  fact  that  feeling  is  a  simple,  primitive,  mental 
state,  just  as  sensation  is.  We  can  feel  as  soon  as  we 
enter  on  existence.  Emotion,  like  perception,  is  a  more 
complex  and  complete  mental  state,  and  it  demands  the 
presence  of  a  representative  idea  to  guide  and  prolong  it. 
On  the  other  hand,  feeling  may  rise  from  a  bodily  cause 
and  may  be  preceded  or  accompanied  by  no  distinct 
idea. 

Feeling  is  present  in  all  emotional  states.  It  is  a 
thread  on  which  all  other  states  are  strung  like  beads. 
When  representative  ideas  appear,  the  feeling  in  combina- 
tion with  them  produces  emotion.  After  the  waters  of 
the  Missouri  combine  with  another  stream,  they  receive 
a  different  name,  although  they  flow  on  toward  the  Gulf 
in  as  great  volume  as  before.  Suppose  we  liken  the  feel- 
ings due  to  sensation  to  the  Missouri  River ;  the  train  of 
representative  ideas  to  the  Mississippi  before  its  junction 
with  the  Missouri.  Emotion  may  then  be  likened  to  the 
Mississippi  after  its  junction  —  after  feeling  has  combined 
with  representative  ideas.  The  emotional  stream  will  now 
be  broader  and  deeper  than  before.  This  analogy  is  em 


250  PSYCHOLOGY  AND  PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

ployed  only  to  make  the  distinction  clearer.  The  student 
must  remember  that  mental  powers  are  never  actually  as 
distinct  as  two  rivers  before  their  union. 

Any  novice  in  psychology  can  see  the  difference  in  the 
mental  state  induced  by  a  burn  and  by  the  news  of  the 
death  of  a  friend.  In  the  former  case  feeling  starts  from 
injured  nerves ;  in  the  latter,  emotion  rises  from  an  idea, 
which  reacts  upon  the  body  and  causes  new  feelings. 

The  student  must  beware  of  thinking  that  we  have 
done  with  feeling  when  we  consider  emotion.  Just  as 
the  waters  of  the  Missouri  flow  on  until  they  reach  the 
Gulf,  so  does  feeling  run  through  every  emotional  state. 

Reflected  Waves  of  Bodily  Feeling  are  Important  Fac- 
tors in  Emotion.  —  Emotions  differ  from  feelings  not  only 
in  complexity  caused  by  trains  of  representative  ideas, 
but  in  waves  of  bodily  feeling  caused  by  those  ideas ;  the 
results  of  these  waves  are  reflected  back  upon  the  mind, 
and  contribute  new  elements  of  feeling  to  render  the 
emotional  state  still  more  complex. 

Suppose  a  person  has  offered  an  insult  to  us.  We 
recall  it ;  we  think  about  our  own  actions  to  see  if  they 
justified  it ;  we  remember  that  he  is  indebted  to  us  for  a 
former  favor.  The  mental  state  has  become  complex, 
and  the  emotion  of  anger  begins  to  rise ;  but  it  will  not 
be  complete  until  it  has  found  expression  in  some  of 
the  bodily  organs.  There  is  a  scowl  on  the  brow,  a 
compression  of  the  lips,  a  muscular  tension  in  the  hands, 
a  quickened  heart  beat.  If  these  bodily  changes  arose 
without  any  idea,  their  effects  would  be  transmitted  to 
the  mind,  and  we  should  have  feeling  as  a  result.  Now, 
the  results  of  this  activity  in  frowning,  muscular  tension, 
and  expression  are  reflected  back  upon  a  mind  in  which 


FEELING   AND   EMOTION.  2$  I 

the  emotion  of  anger  is  developing.  The  feeling  from 
this  reflected  wave  is  the  factor  necessary  to  complete  the 
emotion. 

If  we  watch  a  person  growing  angry,  we  shall  see  the 
emotion  increase  as  he  talks  loud,  frowns  deeply,  clenches 
his  fists,  and  gesticulates  wildly.  Each  expression  of  his] 
passion  is  reflected  back  upon  the  original  anger  and  adds 
fuel  to  the  fire.  If  he  resolutely  inhibits  the  muscular 
expression  of  his  anger,  it  will  not  attain  great  intensity, 
and  it  will  soon  die  a  quiet  death.  So  important  is  this 
wave  of  expressive  muscular  feeling  dashing  back  upon 
the  inducing  mental  state,  that  some  have  erroneously 
concluded  that  an  emotion  did  not  begin  to  rise  until  the 
sensations  from  the  muscular  expression  of  the  idea  were 
reflected  back  on  consciousness. 

Expression  of  Emotion.  —  All  the  emotions  have  well- 
defined  muscular  expression.  Darwin  has  written  an  ex- 
cellent work,  entitled,  The  Expression  of  the  Emotions  in 
Man  and  Animals,  to  which  students  must  refer  for  a 
detailed  account  of  such  expression.  A  very  few  examples 
must  suffice  here. 

"In  all  the  exhilarating  emotions,  the  eyebrows,  the  eye- 
lids, the  nostrils,  and  the  angles  of  the  mouth  are  raised. 
In  the  depressing  passions  it  is  the  reverse."  This  general 
statement  conveys  so  much  truth,  that  a  careful  observer 
can  read  a  large  part  of  the  history  of  a  human  being 
written  in  the  face.  For  this  reason  many  phrenologists 
have  wisely  turned  physiognomists.  Grief  is  expressed 
by  raising  the  inner  ends  of  the  eyebrows,  drawing  down 
the  corners  of  the  mouth,  and  transversely  wrinkling  the 
middle  part  of  the  forehead.  In  Tierra  del  Fuego,  a  party 
of  natives  conveyed  to  Darwin  the  idea  that  a  certain  man 


252  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

was  low-spirited,  by  pulling  down  their  cheeks  in  order  to 
make  their  faces  long. 

Joy  is  expressed  by  drawing  backward  and  upward  the 
corners  of  the  mouth.  The  upper  lip  rises  and  draws 
the  cheeks  upward,  forming  wrinkles  under  the  eyes. 
The  elevation  of  the  upper  lip  and  the  nostrils  expresses 
contempt.  A  skillful  observer  can  frequently  tell  if  one 
person  admires  another.  In  this  case  the  eyebrows  are 
raised,  disclosing  a  brightening  eye  and  a  relaxed  expres- 
sion ;  sometimes  a  gentle  smile  plays  about  the  mouth. 
Blushing  is  merely  the  physical  expression  of  certain 
emotions.  We  notice  the  expression  of  emotion  more  in 
the  countenance,  because  the  effects  are  there  most  plainly 
visible ;  but  the  muscles  of  the  entire  body,  the  vital  organs, 
and  the  viscera,  are  also  vehicles  of  expression. 

Emotion  Produced  by  Bodily  Expression.  —  Actors  have 
frequently  testified  to  the  fact  that  emotion  will  arise  if 
they  go  through  the  appropriate  muscular  movements. 
In  talking  to  a  character  on  the  stage,  if  they  clench  the 
fist  and  frown,  they  often  find  themselves  becoming  really 
angry ;  if  they  start  with  counterfeit  laughter,  they  find 
themselves  growing  cheerful.  A  German  professor  says 
that  he  cannot  walk  with  a  schoolgirl's  mincing  step  and 
air  without  feeling  frivolous.  A  study  of  hypnotic  sub- 
jects has  shown  that  emotion  will  often  rise  with  them,  if 
they  are  placed  in  the  proper  attitude.  If  made  to  kneel 
and  clasp  their  hands,  a  devout  frame  of  mind  follows. 

Bodily  Expression  Prolongs  Emotion.  —  After  the  idea 
which  has  caused  fear  is  seen  to  be  groundless,  the  emo- 
tion still  persists.  Fear  has  caused  changes  in  the  vital 
organs  and  the  muscles  and  these  changes  continue  to 


affect  the  brain  and  prolong  the  fear  after  the  departure  of 
the  idea,  just  as  the  waves  of  the  ocean  continue  to  dash 
high  upon  the  shore  long  after  the  wind  has  ceased.  After 
burglars  have  broken  into  a  house,  there  is  generally  no 
more  sleep  for  the  inmates  that  night,  although  the  house 
may  be  guarded  well  enough  to  dispel  the  idea  that  another 
attack  will  be  made.  Waves  from  affected  physical  organs 
dash  upon  the  brain  and  prolong  the  fear. 

Not  without  reason  are  those  persons  called  cold-blooded 
who  habitually  restrain  as  far  as  possible  the  expression  oi 
emotion  ;  who  never  frown  or  throw  any  feeling  into  their 
tones,  even  when  a  wrong  inflicted  upon  some  one  demands 
aggressive  measures.  There  is  here  no  wave  of  bodily 
expression  to  flow  back  and  augment  the  emotional  state 


/  -A 

^^        CLASSIFICATION  OF  THE  EMOTIONS. 

Difficulty  of  Classification.  —  So  •  complex  are  the  emo- 
tions, that  a  satisfactory  classification  of  them  has  never 
been  made.  But  some  attempt  at  classification  is  desira- 
ble in  order  that  we  may  view  emotion  from  different  sides, 
and  learn  something  additional  from  each  view.  Professor 
James  rightly  says :  "  Any  classification  of  the  emotions  is 
seen  to  be  as  true  and  as  natural  as  any  other,  if  it  only 
serves  some  purpose."  We  shall  endeavor  to  give  the  sim 
plest  classification  that  will  afford  a  broad  view  of  emotional 
activity. 

No  one  of  these  classes  will  exclude  other  classes.  The 
mind  is  a  unit,  and  all  that  classification  can  do  is  to  view 
this  unitary  activity  from  different  sides.  The  distinction 
between  feeling  and  emotion  is  not  absolute.  There  is 
more  complexity  in  the  emotion,  but  precisely  where  the 
necessary  complexity  begins,  no  one  can  say.  Hence 


254  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

there  is  some  reason  for  the  popular  use  of  feeling  and 
emotion  as  synonyms.  A  glorious  cathedral  should  be 
viewed  from  as  many  different  sides  as  possible ;  but  we 
must  not  forget  that  it  is  the  same  cathedral,  HO  matter 
how  different  the  points  of  view. 

Scheme  of  Classification.  —  We  have  already  classified 
as  feeMng—Qost  simple  states  due  either  to  peripheral 
stimulation,  myh  as  A  buriy.  or  to  the  simple  memory  of 
that_Jjurn/  Taking  emotion  as  starting  from  a  complex 
representative  idea,  as  the  memory  of  a  mother's  past 
kindness  or  the  constructive  image  of  future  success,  we 
may  proceed  to  classify  as  follows  :  — 

I.  Egoistic   emotion,   e.g.    pride.     This   emotion   starts 
from  any  idea  that  represents  the  welfare  of  the  self. 

II.  Altruistic  emotion,  e.g.  sympathy.     This  rises  with 
an  idea  that  suggests  the  welfare  of  others. 

III.  Intellectual  emotion.     This  accompanies  the  work- 
ing of  any  intellectual  power  —  perception,  memory,  im- 
agination, or  thought. 

IV.  ALsthetic  emotion.     This  takes  its  rise   from   the 
contemplation  of  beautiful  objects. 

V.  Moral  emotion.     This  attends  ideas  of  certain  rela- 
tions of  human  beings  to  each  other ;  or,  in  other  words, 
ideas  of  right  and  wrong  courses  of  human  action. 

Further  investigation  of  emotion  along  these  lines  will 
give  us  a  better  idea  of  it.  We  must  not  forget  that 
these  divisions  sometimes  overlap.  Altruistic  emotion 
has  egoistic  factors ;  both  classes  are  intellectual,  since 
they  arise  from  apprehending  ideas  in  their  relations. 
./Esthetic  and  moral  emotion  also  have  an  intellectual 
side,  since  a  cultivated  mind  alone  can  have  these  emo- 
tions to  the  fullest  extent.  There  are,  however,  ample 


FEELING  AND  EMOTION.  25  5 

grounds  for  making  such  a  classification,  since  it  empha- 
sizes the  fact  that  emotional  life  is  many-sided  with  a 
common  element  running  through  it. 


Egoistic  Emotion.^^ 


The  Selfish  Side  of  Emotion.  —  Egoistic  emotions  cluster 
around  anything  that  affects  the  self  directly  or  indirectly. 
Pride,  jealousy,  love  of  approbation,  fear  and  anger  when 
anything  threatens  the  self,  are  egoistic  emotions.  Inj 
short,  any  movement  prompted  by  a  desire  for  self-ad  vance-|( 
ment  or  to  escape  harm  is  due  to  egoistic  emotion. 

In  the  evolution  of  the  race,  the  egoistic  emotions  were 
absolutely   necessary   for  the   survival  of   the  individual. 
They  are  so  to-day  in  a  somewhat  less  degree.     The  truth 
of  this  is  indicated  in  the  popular  saying,  "  If  you  don't 
look  out  for  yourself,  you  must  not  expect  any  one  else  to 
look  out  for  you."     It  is  also  said  that  Heaven  will  not 
help  a  man  unless  he  helps  himself,  or,  in  other  words, 
unless   his   egoistic   emotions   prompt   him   to   a   certain 
amount  of  action.     In  the  early  history  of  the  world,  those 
tribes  who  could  not,  or  would  not,  protect  their  property, 
their  wives  and  children,  perished.     It  is  necessary  to-day/" 
for  the  individual  to  have  enough  egoistic  feeling  to  geti- 
for  himself  sufficient  money  to  shelter,  feed,  clothe, 
otherwise  care  for  himself  and  his  family.     If  he  has  not, 
he  and  they  will  go  to  the  wall. 

The  egoistic  emotions  are  sufficiently  instinctive  and 
universal  to  need  little  culture.  Once  in  a  great  while  we 
meet  with  some  one  who  will,  for  the  mere  asking,  give  up 
to  others  almost  anything  he  has,  who  is  always  neglect- 
ing his  own  interests  and  those  of  his  family  to  help  some 
one  else ;  but  he  is  a  rare  specimen.  To-day  men  more 


256  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

frequently  fail  in  life  from  selfishness  than  from  practicing 
altruism.  The  Indian  lost  his  broad  lands  more  from  lack 
of  altruistic  than  of  selfish  motives.  He  was  too  often  at 
war  with  other  tribes,  too  revengeful,  and  his  sympathies 
were  too  narrow. 

Similar  Actions  by  Ourselves  and  Others  Arouse  Different 
Egoistic  Emotions.  —  Our  own  actions  do  not  raise  in  us  the 
same  kind  of  feeling  as  similar  actions  on  the  part  of  others. 
We  condemn  certain  acts  in  others,  but  perform  similar  acts 
without  feeling  a  particle  of  indignation.  Most  persons 
have,  at  some  time  or  other,  been  told  things  in  confidence 
and  have  repeated  the  confidence  to  some  other  person. 
When  such  untrustworthy  persons  have  had  their  own  con- 
fidences violated  they  have  been  angry ;  but  there  is  no 
trace  of  anger  at  their  own  breach  of  trust.  Amusing  as 
it  seems,  nothing  is  more  common  than  to  hear  a  person 
say  before  he  breaks  the  confidence  reposed  in  him  :  "  That 
was  told  me  in  confidence."  The  workingman  is  indignant 
at  trusts.  He  forms  a  labor  trust  himself,  and  endeavors 
to  control  the  whole  supply ;  but  he  experiences  no  feeling 
of  indignation  at  his  own  acts. 

This  difference  in  feeling  is  a  relic  of  barbarous  times. 
We  are  not  yet  fully  evolved ;  or,  as  a  humorist  ex- 
presses it,  we  are  still  half  frog  and  half  tadpole.  A 
primeval  man  went  to  a  cave  on  the  opposite  side  of 
a  mountain  from  his  own,  killed  the  wife  and  children 
and  took  the  goods  of  another  man.  As  time  went  on, 
tribes  did  the  same  thing.  Even  these  barbarians  would 
have  acknowledged  that  they  would  have  felt  wretched 
at  similar  treatment.  If  asked  why  they  did  not  have 
the  same  feelings  when  inflicting  it  on  others,  they  would 
have  replied  that  their  victims  would  have  killed  them  if 


FEELING   AND   EMOTION  25? 

they  could ;  that  it  was  merely  a  question  which  was 
to  survive.  As  aboriginal  society  -was  constituted,  there 
would  have  been  considerable  truth  in  the  reply ;  but 
in  the  present  condition  of  government,  there  is  little. 
If  one  person  fails  to  do  an  objectionable  deed,  it  by 
no  means  follows  that  some  one  else  will  do  it.  In  proof 
of  this,  as  the  years  roll  on,  men  are  coming  more  and 
more  nearly  to  look  at  their  own  deeds  in  the  same  light 
in  which  others  regard  them.  Education  and  the  conse-l 
quent  improvement  in  the  imagination  and  the  reflective! 
powers  are  bringing  this  about  at  a  rapid  rate. 

Altruistic   Emotion-, 

* 

Conditions  of  Sympathetic  Emotion.  —  We  have  emotions 
which  cluster  about  the  welfare  of  others.  Every  time  we 
are  sorry  at  another's  misfortune,  or  rilled  with  joy  at  his 
success,  we  experience  an  altruistic  emotion. 

The   complex   altruistic   emotion   of    sympathy   is   thej 
noblest  feeling  given  to  mortals.     Its  possession  renders 
a.  human   being   more  attractive   than  all  other  qualities 
combined.     There   are  four   distinct    steps  necessary  for 
the  full  growth  of  sympathy  :  — 

(1)  The  sympathizer  must  be  a  good  observer.     He  must 
be  on  the  alert  to  notice  any  cause  capable  of  producing 
grief  or  joy.     He  must  be  careful  to  detect  the  physical 
expression  of  emotion,  even  when  efforts  for  its  repression 
or  concealment  are  made.     Pride  or  shyness  or  fear  causes 
many  a  human  being  to  mask  the  emotions,  even  when 
sympathy  is  most  needed  ;  but  the  eyes  of  a  good  observer 
can  penetrate  the  mask. 

(2)  The  sympathizer  must  also  have  a  good  memory. 
He  must  recall  occurrences  which  affected  him  more  or 

HALLECK'S  PSYC.  —  ij 


^Ji 


YCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC 


less  profoundly,  perhaps  long  ago.     Most  important  of  all, 
he  must  remember  how  he  felt  at  the  time. 

(3)  He  must  be  a  good  thinker.     He  must  be  able  to 
compare   the   causes   which   formerly  acted  on  him  with 
those   which   are    now   affecting   others,  and   notice   the 
points  of  likeness  and  difference.     He  must  compare  dif- 
ferent temperaments  and  environment. 

(4)  He  may  have  all  these  qualities  in  addition  to  a 
naturally  emotional  nature,  and  yet  not  be  a  good  sympa- 
thizer.    If  he  lacks  imagination,  be  l^cks  the  keysto"^  t^ 
the  arch.     The  causes  of  emotion,  the  environment,  the 
tastes  of  others,  are  seldom  literal  copies  of  his  own.     He 
must   by  constructive   imagination   supply   the   elements 
which   his   own   experience   lacks.     The  more  vivid   and 
cultivated  his  imagination,  the  better  can  he  put  himself 
in  another's  place. 

Hence  it  is  seen  that  a  stupid  person  cannot  be  sympa- 
thetic. This  altruistic  emotion  is  the  result  of  long  train- 
ing. Sympathy  cannot  be  put  on  and  off  like  gloves.  It 
is  worth  earnest  striving  for,  since  the  sympathetic  are 
alone  fit  to  live  with.  Sympathy  doubles  pleasures  and 
halves  pains. 

*•- .  — 

Necessity  for  Community  of  Experience  and  Taste.  —  For 
close  sympathy  between  individuals,  there  must  be  harmony 
of  tastes.  If  one  is  very  fond  of  music,  while  the  other 
is  indifferent  to  it ;  if  one  desires  much  company,  while 
the  other  prefers  the  solitude  of  the  home ;  if  one  loves 
travel,  while  the  other  dislikes  it ;  if  one  is  intellectual 
and  fond  of  reading,  while  the  other  is  frivolous  and, 
rarely  opens  a  book,  —  there  can  never  be  close  sympathy.; 

Again,  in  order  to  give  the  powers  of  comparison  and 
of  imagination  any  materials  to  work  with,  there  must 


FEELING  AND    EMOTION.  259 

be  considerable  community  of  experience.  Young  people 
can  rarely  feel  deep  sympathy  with  the  failing  capacities 
and  troubles  of  the  aged.  Many  a  mother  has  given  her 
children  as  much  sympathy  as  exists  outside  of  Heaven, 
only  to  find  them  stupidly  unsympathetic  when  the  last 
bitter  years  come  fraught  with  failing  powers  and  help- 
lessness for  her.  Where  there  is  as  much  community  of 
experience  as  there  must  necessarily  have  been  between 
parent  and  child,  there  is,  of  course,  slight  excuse  for 
this ;  but  when  one  person  has  had  little  trouble  or  pleas- 
ure in  common  with  another,  it  is  useless  to  expect  much 
interchange  of  sympathy. 

The  Increase  of  Altruistic  Emotion.  —  As  the  race  be- 
comes more  fully  evolved,  the  altruistic  emotions  are  in- 
creasing in  scope  and  depth.  Instead  of,  "  It  toucheth  thee, 
and  thou  art  troubled,"  the  chronicler  of  the  future  will 
be  able  to  write  more  and  more  often,  "  It  troubled  thee, 
although  thou  wast  not  touched."  Some  have  denied  the 
existence  of  altruistic  emotions,  but  there  are  in  evidence 
against  this  denial  many  orphan  asylums,  homes  for  the 
aged,  societies  to  relieve  distress  and  to  protect  children 
and  animals.  The  number  trying  to  improve  the  condi- 
tion of  the  world  is  constantly  increasing.  Each  year  sees 
more  efficiency  in  organizations  for  this  purpose. 

Intellectual  Emotion. 

Emotion  is  Developed  by  Intellectual  Action.  —  All  ex< 
cise  of  the  mind  is  accompanied  by  feeling,  and  as  this 
becomes  pronounced  and  causes  slight  changes  in  the  con- 
dition of  the  nerve  matter  and  the  physical  expression, 
we  have  genuine  emotion.  There  are  complex  pleasures 


260  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

and  pains,  with  their  resulting  emotions,  entering  into 
perception,  memory,  imagination,  and  thought.  When 
we  merely  perceive  the  vast  blue  expanse  of  the  quiet 
ocean,  an  emotion  frequently  rises  from  intellectual  action. 
The  gaze  at  the  ocean  is  not  passive.  The  mind  is  devel- 
oping a  train  of  associated  ideas,  which  immediately  form 
a  part  of  the  complex  mental  state, — ideas  of  blue  eyes, 
and  the  blue  depths  of  the  limitless  heavens ;  ideas  of  an 
Infinite  Power,  of  an  analogy  between  this  restless  ocean 
and  life.  From  such  perceptions,  pronounced  emotional 
states  speedily  develop,  although  they  may  begin  in  simple 
pleasurable  nervous  response  to  the  stimulus  of  a  pleasing 
color. 

Let  any  one  recall  memories  of  the  past,  of  times  when 
he  achieved  success  or  appeared  so  foolish  that  he  was 
disgusted  with  himself,  of  unkind  words  hastily  spoken, 
of  good  deeds, — and  he  will  find  this  representative  intel- 
lectual action  accompanied  by  deep  emotion.  When  Mac- 
beth's  memory  thrust  before  him  the  circumstances  of  the 
murder,  emotion  followed  as  the  night  the  day.  Shake- 
speare's plays  and  Milton's  Paradise  Lost  gratify  us  be- 
cause they  set  our  imaginations  to  work,  and  emotional 
action  follows.  The  reason  why  the  vicious  practic£.^al 
building  aircastlcs  is  indulged  in,  is  because  pleasure  is 
a  prominent  element  of  the  imaginative  activity. 

The  emotions  accompanying  the  exercise  of  the  think- 
ing power  lack  deep  bodily  resonance,  but  they  are  im- 
portant and  often  extremely  pleasurable  notwithstanding. 
There  was,  probably,  not  a  happier  moment  in  New- 
ton's life  than  when  he  had  succeeded  in  demonstrating, 
that  the  same  power  which  caused  the  apple  to  fall,  held 
the  moon  and  the  planets  in  their  orbits.  When  Watts 
discovered  that  steam  might  be  harnessed  like  a  horse ; 


FEELING  AND   EMOTION.  261 

when  an  inventor  succeeds  in  perfecting  a  labor-lightening 
device ;  whenever  an  obscurity  is  cleared  away,  the  reason 
for  a  thing  understood,  and  a  baffling  instance  brought 
under  a  general  law, — intellectual  emotion  results.  The 
principal  intellectual  emotions  are  wonder,  surprise,  belief, 
and  perplexity. 

The  intellectual  emotions  in  an  eminent  degree  accom- 
pany the  study  of  the  best  poetry.  An  example  from 
Wordsworth  will  suffice  to  illustrate  this :  — 

"  I  have  seen 

A  curious  child,  who  dwelt  upon  a  tract 
Of  inland  ground,  applying  to  his  ear 
The  convolutions  of  a  smooth-lipped  shell : 
To  which,  in  silence  hushed,  his  very  soul 
Listened  intensely  —  and  his  countenance  soon 
Brightened  with  joy ;  for  murmurings  from  within 
Were  heard,  sonorous  cadences !  whereby, 
To  his  belief,  the  monitor  expressed 
Mysterious  union  with  its  native  sea. 
Even  such  a  shell  the  universe  itself 
Is  to  the  ear  of  Faith." 

As  the  intellect  traces  out  the  analogy  between  the  cadence 
in  the  shell  and  the  sound  of  the  parent  sea,  and  finds  the 
wonderful  mechanism  of  the  universe  suggestive  of  a  match- 
less Evolver,  an  emotion  arises  strong  in  proportion  to  the 
mental  culture  and  capacity  of  the  individual. 

The  Ludicrous.  —  The  puzzling  emotion  of  the  ludicrous 
should  be  classed  under  the  intellectual  emotions,  for  it 
depends  largely  on  contrast,  and  hence  requires  the  exer- 
cise of  the  comparative  powers  to  detect  the  contrast. 
As  has  often  been  said,  a  stupid  person  cannot  see  the 
point  of  a  joke.  Psychologists  have  pointed  out  two 


262  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

elements  in  the  ludicrous :  (i)  the  feeling  of  superiority 
or  glory,  which  appears  so  often  in  wit,  and  (2)  incon- 
gruity, a  characteristic  of  humor. 

The  feeling  of  superiority,  or  mirth  over  the  discom- 
fiture of  another,  is  illustrated  by  the  laughter  when  a 
pompous,  aristocratic  person  slips  and  falls  in  the  mud. 
It  is  still  very  human  to  chuckle  when  a  rival  receives  a 
setback.  A  newspaper  relates  the  following  anecdote,  — 
"  What  would  you  do  in  case  you  voted  war  on  the  coun- 
try ?  "  the  reporter  asked  of  a  woman's  rights  woman.  "  I 
should  be  perfectly  willing  to  send  my  husband  to  the  war," 
she  replied.  This  depends  for  its  wit  on  the  humiliation  of 
the  husband.  The  laugh  is  at  his  expense. 

The  element  of  incongruity  generally  raises  an  emotion 
of  the  ludicrous  in  any  whose  comparative  powers  are 
sufficiently  cultivated  to  detect  the  incongruity.  Mark 
Twain  tells  us  of  a  city  with  very  narrow  streets,  and 
adds  that  it  is  well  that  they  are  no  wider.  They  now 
hold  all  the  stench  that  can  be  endured.  If  they  were 
wider,  they  would  hold  more,  and  the  people  would  die. 
If  a  clergyman  wearing  a  cook's  cap  and  apron  were  to 
ascend  the  pulpit,  the  congregation  would  laugh.  There 
might  be  nothing  funny  about  the  cap  and  apron  by 
themselves,  but  their  unwonted  relations  to  the  clergy- 
man would  raise  an  emotion  of  the  ludicrous. 


^Esthetic  Emotion. 
1 1 .  P^  d^iT 

Origin  and  Scope  of  Esthetic  Emotion.  —  Esthetic  er 
tion  has  its  origin  in  the  perception  of  the  beautiful.  It 
has  the  least  reference  to  self  of  any  of  the  emotions.  A 
pure  aesthetic  emotion  must  not  contain  a  single  element 
of  desire  for  possession  of  the  beautiful  object.  There 


FEELING   AND    EMOTION. 

need  be  no  relations  between  the  person  and  the  object, 
save  the  opportunity  to  perceive  it.  Any  number  of  per- 
sons may  be  delighted  without  destroying  the  source  of 
the  pleasure.  The  blue  sky,  the  starry  heavens,  the  rain- 
bow, the  blossoms,  the  music  from  an  orchestra,  are  not 
impaired  by  the  gazers  or  the  hearers.  Eating  is  not 
aesthetic,  because  the  viands  must  be  destroyed  in  the 
process,  so  far  as  others  are  concerned,  and  the  pleasur^ 
must  be  selfish. 

^Esthetic  pleasures  were  unknown  in  the  barbarous  age 
of  man,  when  all  the  energy  of  the  individual  was  necessary 
to  protect  himself  and  his  family  and  to  get  a  living.  They 
arose  when  civilization  allowed  him  to  accumulate  a  sur- 
plus of  energy,  which  could  be  worked  off  in  a  playful, 
disinterested  way.  Health,  leisure,  education,  and  money 
represent  this  surplus.  The  lower  classes  to-day,  who 
constantly  work  for  the  necessaries  of  life,  accumulate 
little  superfluous  energy  to  take  the  direction  of  aesthetic 
activity. 

There  may  be  three  elements  in  aesthetic  enjoyment : 
(i)  the  sensuous,  (2)  the  intellectual,  (3)  the  associative. 
Each  of  these  will  now  be  taken  up  in  order. 

I.  The  Sensuous  Element.  —  When  a  person  looks  at  a 
rose  or  a  rainbow,  the  nerves  of  sight  may  be  so  acted 
upon  that  aesthetic  pleasure  is  the  immediate  result  of  the 
sensation.  The  object  is  at  once  felt  to  be  beautiful  with- 
out any  intervention  of  the  intellect.  Persons  have  almost 
danced  with  aesthetic  delight  the  moment  their  eyes  fell 
upon  the  exquisite  tints  of  a  hillside  of  maples  in  the 
autumn.  It  has  been  said  that  one  part  of  the  aesthetic 
delight  from  music  is  due  to  the  fact  that  the  harmony 
gratifies  certain  simple  sensibilities  of  the  nerves  of  the 


264  PSYCHOLOGY  AND    PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

ear.     Perhaps  their  vibration  in  a  certain  way  gives  rise 
to  this  pleasure. 

The  sensuous  element  does,  not  contribute  the  highest 
order  of  pleasure,  but  the  possession  of  healthy  nerves 
containing  stored-up  energy,  capable  of  responding  under 
the  proper  stimulus,  is  certainly  an  addition  to  those  aes- 
thetic pleasures  where  the  associative  and  thinking  ele- 
ments figure  largely.  Even  nerves  differ  in  their  power 
of  aesthetic  sensibility.  Grant  Allen  says  :  "  The  vulgar 
are  pleased  by  great  masses  of  color,  especially  red,  orange, 
and  purple,  which  give  their  coarse  nervous  organization 
the  requisite  stimulus.  The  refined,  with  nerves  of  less 
caliber,  but  greater  discriminativeness,  require  delicate 
combinations  of  complementaries  and  prefer  neutral  tints 
to  the  glare  of  the  primary  hues.  Children  and  savages 
love  to  dress  in  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow." 

II.  The  Intellectual  Element. — The  fact  that  one  person 
can  see  beauty  where  another  cannot,  shows  that  it  is,  to  a 
certain  extent,  intellectual.  A  Fiji  would  probably  see  lit- 
tle beauty  in  the  finest  art  gallery  in  the  world.  We  are 
rightly  told  that,  "in  ordinary  cases,  the  aesthetic  quality 
of  objects  is  so  slightly  marked  that  only  an  exercise  of 
attention  can  bring  it  definitely  into  consciousness."  The 
power  of  close  attention  belongs  to  a  cultured  intellect. 

Every  time  the  mind  discerns  unity  amid  variety,  order, 
rhythm,  proportion  or  symmetry,  an  aesthetic  emotion 
arises.  We  pick  up  the  seed  cone  of  a  pine  tree,  and 
notice  that  the  cone  has  the  general  shape  of  the  parent 
tree.  Further  observation  discloses  the  fact  that  each 
branch  has  the  conical  shape  of  the  tree.  Each  little 
branch  growing  on  a  larger  one  is  also  conical.  We  per- 
ceive additional  beauty  in  the  pine  as  soon  as  we  have 


FEELING   AND   EMOTION.  265 

traced  out  this  unity  amid  variety.  When  the  unity  run- 
ning through  the  varied  phenomena  of  heat,  light,  and 
electricity  was  discovered,  the  demonstration  was  justly 
called  a  beautiful  one.  If  it  is  ever  proved  that  all  sub- 
stances are,  at  the  last  analysis,  one  and  the  same  under- 
lying substance,  whose  different  molecular  arrangements 
are  accountable  for  all  the  variety,  the  demonstration  will 
appeal  to  the  aesthetic  feelings.  They  are  also  aroused  at 
the  suggestion  that  all  the  sciences  may  be  merely  compo- 
nent parts  of  one  foundation  science,  the  science  of  Being, 
although  we  have  not  yet  discovered  the  unity  running 
through  these  varied  sciences. 

The  traveler  with  a  trained  intellect  will  see  far  more 
beauty  than  an  ignorant  one.  In  looking  at  a  cathedral, 
a  large  part  of  the  aesthetic  enjoyment  comes  from  trac- 
ing out  the  symmetry,  from  comparing  part  with  part. 
Not  until  this  process  is  complete,  will  the  full  beauty 
of  the  structure  as  a  whole  be  perceived.  If  the  traveler 
knows  something  of  mediaeval  architecture  before  starting 
on  his  European  trip,  he  will  see  far  more  beauty. 

The  opposite  of  the  aesthetic,  which  we  call  the  ugly,  is 
the  unsymmetrical,  the  disorderly  —  that  in  which  we  can 
discover  no  rhythm,  plan,  or  harmony. 

III.  The  Associative  Element.  —  This  factor  is  so  pro- 
nounced in  many  aesthetic  emotions,  that  some  have  thought 
that  it  was  the  necessary  element  in  all  such  emotion.  In 
our  study  of  the  association  of  ideas,  we  saw  that  ugly  gar- 
ments may  come  to  be  regarded  as  pleasing  from  being 
associated  with  well-bred  or  handsome  people.  The  trav- 
eler rightly  wishes  to  take  a  trip  on  the  Rhine  because  of 
its  associations.  There  is  nothing  objectively  beautiful  in 
a  pile  of  disorderly  stones  —  the  grass  sprouting  over  some, 


266 


PSYCHOLOGY  AND  PSYCHIC  CULfURE. 


others  about  to  fall.  The  ruined  castles  derive  their  beauty 
from  the  legend  and  song  connected  with  them.  A  beau- 
tiful maiden  was  formerly  imprisoned  in  this  castle,  and 
one  of  the  most  chivalrous  knights  of  all  time  finally  res- 
cued her  after  many  adventures.  Such  stories  are  asso- 
ciated with  the  ruined  pile,  and  in  imagination  we  repeople 
the  castle  with  all  the  figures  of  chivalry.  We  hear  the 
song  of  the  daughters  of  the  Rhine  echoing  over  the  bat- 
tlements. After  witnessing  a  performance  of  Wagner's 
Rheingold  the  river  would  appear  still  more  beautiful. 
And  yet  foreigners  say  that  the  Hudson  is  far  more  pic- 
turesque. The  parts  of  the  Hudson  also  that  excite  most 
interest  are  associated  with  legend  or  history.  Travelers 
eagerly  scan  the  Catskills,  where  Rip  Van  Winkle  slept 
his  twenty  years'  sleep,  and  where  the  crew  of  Henry 
Hudson  are  still  said  to  hold  their  revels  on  tempestuous 
nights. 

America   is   far  richer  in  varied  natural  scenery  than 
:'  Europe,  but  America  is  so  young  that  she  lacks  the  asso- 
•  ciations  which  for  more  than  a  thousand  years  have  gath- 
ered around  every  square  mile  of  Europe.     Comparatively 
few  would  visit  Stratford-on-Avon,  were  it  not  associated 
with  Shakespeare.     Sully  says :  "  The  cawing  of  rooks  is 
not  a  pleasing  sound  in  itself,  but  is  commonly  regarded 
as   such   through   its   suggestions,    e.g.    sunny   park    and 
country  repose.     The  effect  of  sublimity  is  largely  a  mat- 
ter of   suggestion.      We  are  thrilled  at  the  sight   of  an 
Alpine  crag  because  of  the  suggestions  of  power,  danger, 
\and  isolation  which  attend  it." 

Esthetic  Enjoyment  Often  a  Resultant  of  all  Three  Ele- 
ments. —  The  aesthetic  emotions  are  frequently  due  to 
all  three  factors  —  sensuous,  intellectual,  and  associative 


FEELING   AND    EMOTION.  267 

—  acting  at  the  same  time.  Music  may  afford  aesthetic 
gratification  from  all  three  sources.  The  mere  harmony 
may  affect  the  nerves  in  an  aesthetic  way.  When  the 
intellect  traces  out  the  relation  of  part  to  part,  detects 
the  harmony  running  through  the  entire  composition,  there 
is  further  aesthetic  pleasure.  If  the  tune  is  a  national  one, 
it  derives  beauty  from  its  associations.  The  sound  of  the 
bagpipe  is  beautiful  to  a  Scotchman  because  it  is  asso- 
ciated with  Scotland. 

Variations  in  Esthetic  Taste.  —  It  has  been  said  that 
aesthetics  cannot  be  treated  in  a  scientific  way  because 
there  is  no  standard  of  taste.  "  De  gustibus  non  dispu- 
tandum  "  is  an  old  proverb.  Of  two  equally  intelligent 
persons,  the  one  may  like  a  certain  book,  the  other  dis- 
like it.  Authors  and  many  other  persons  know  that  there 
is  nothing  more  variable  than  criticism.  Hamlet  is  a 
much  more  popular  play  with  the  Germans  than  with 
the  French.  The  same  style  of  opera  does  not  suit 
both  the  Italians  and  the  Germans.  The  great  French 
critic,  Taine,  did  not  like  Paradise  Lost.  Taste  not  only 
varies  among  individuals  now,  but  it  has  changed  from 
age  to  age.  In  the  early  part  of  the  Elizabethan  Age, 
a  stilted,  antithetical,  euphuistic  style  was  popular.  In 
Pope's  age  more  attention  was  paid  to  form  and  elegance 
of  expression  than  to  the  worth  of  the  thought.  The 
Dutch  landscape  gardeners  formerly  clipped  evergreen 
trees  into  all  sorts  of  fantastic  shapes  to  imitate  all  kinds 
of  animals. 

While  it  is  true  that  the  standard  of  taste  is  a  varying 
one  within  certain  limits,  it  is  no  more  so  than  that  of 
morals.  As  men's  nervous  systems,  education,  and  asso- 
ciations differ,  we  may  scientifically  conclude  that  their 


268  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

tastes  must  differ.  The  greater  the  uniformity  in  the 
factors,  the  less  does  the  product  vary.  On  the  other 
hand,  within  certain  limits,  the  standard  of  aesthetics  is 
relatively  uniform.  It  is  fixed  by  the  majority  of  intelli- 
gent people  of  any  age  and  country.  To  estimate  the 
standard  by  which  to  judge  of  the  correctness  of  language 
or  of  the  literary  taste  of  any  era,  we  examine  the  conver- 
sations of  the  best  speakers,  the  works  of  the  standard 
writers.  There  is  sufficient  uniformity  of  taste  for  manu- 
facturers to  be  willing  to  risk  millions  in  making  aesthetic 
articles.  Authors  and  publishers  risk  time  and  money  in 
bringing  out  books,  because  experience  has  shown  that 
the  public  will  like  certain  productions.  Both  German 
and  Italian  composers  have  certain  principles,  though 
different  ones,  to  guide  them  in  producing  operas  to  suit 
the  taste  of  their  respective  nations. 

There  are  some  things  that  can  be  pronounced  in  bad 
taste  in  any  age  or  nation.     All  things  which  are  in  con- 
flict with  the  laws  of  life  —  the  laws  of  health  or  of  morals, 
—  may  be  pronounced  not  aesthetic  at  any  time.     As  Sulll 
says,  "  We  could  condemn  the  Chinese  taste  for  pincheJ 
feet  or  the  English  taste  for  pinched  waists  as  bad.", 

Moral  Emoti 

Characteristics  of  Moral  Feeling.  —  (i)  A  moral  emotion  ; 
appears  only  on  the  perception  of  the  Tightness  or  the  X!J^ 
wrongness  of  human  action.  The  relations  of  man  to 
man,  not  of  matter  to  matter,  furnish  grounds  for  this 
emotion.  In  this  it  differs  from  aesthetic  feeling,  which 
may  be  started  by  the  perception  of  a  rose.  The  moment 
we  see  a  child  neglecting  a  parent,  or  a  man  stealing 
from  another  or  murdering  some  one,  a  moral  emotion 


FEELING  AND   EMOTION^  269 

arises.  Some  human  actions,  e.g.  eating  and  walking,  are 
neither  moral  nor  immoral  ;  only  those  actions  which  affect 
the  welfare  of  others,  which  are  intentionally  benevolent 
or  harmful,  have  relations  with  morality.  The  perception 
of  a  rainbow,  a  ruined  castle,  or  autumnal  scenery  may 
raise  an  aesthetic  emotion  but  never  a  moral  one.  Lear 
could  blame  the  winds  for  buffeting  his  old  and  helpless 
head  only  after  he  had  personified  them. 

(2)  Moral  emotion  carries  with  it  a  feeling  of  oughtness, 
possessed  by  no  other  emotion.     It  says,  "Thou  shalt,"  or 
"Thou  shalt  not;"  and, accompanying  obedience  or  disobe- 
dience of  its  commands,  there  also  comes  a  peculiar  feeling 
of  approval  or  disapproval.     There  is  no  such  feeling  of 
authority   in    an   aesthetic   emotion.     We   may  admire   a 
painting  or  a  cathedral  or  not,  just  as  we  choose;  if  we 
fail  to  admire,  remorse  does  not  follow.     But  Macbeth  felt 
that  he  ought  to  bar  the  door  against  Duncan's  murderer, 
not  bear  the  knife  himself. 

(3)  The   feeling  depends   for   its  validity  on  the  fact 
that  an  action  is  freely  willed.     If  a  somnambulist  killed 
another,  or  a  man  accidentally  slew  his  neighbor,  a  moral 
emotion    would    not   arise   in   connection  with   the  deed, 
because    it    was    not    freely    willed.       Whether    natural 
scenery  or  a  human  face  wills  to  look  beautiful  or  not 
makes    no   difference   with    the    raising   of    an    aesthetic 
emotion.     Remorse  can   be   satisfactorily  explained    only 
on  the  supposition  that  the  person  could  have  acted  dif- 
ferently. 

(4)  The  other  emotions,  as  a  rule,  as   they   are   now 
developed,  impel  us  toward  what  we  enjoy,  toward  pleas- 
ure and  away  from  pain.     This  is  especially  the  case  with 
the  aesthetic  emotions.     Even  sympathy  has  its  pleasant 
side,  but  the  moral  feelings  frequently  goad  us  toward  dis- 


2/O  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

agreeable  duty.  After  men  have  stolen  money  from  the 
government,  byjalsely  swearing  to  the  value  of  imports 
or  in  other  ways,  the  moral  emotion  not  infrequently 
prompts  the  return  of  the  money.  The  government  has 
regular  entries  of  conscience  money  on  the  ledgers. 

Different  Theories  of  Moral  Emotion.  —  Some  have  held 
that  there  is  a  special  faculty  called  conscience,  which  de- 
cides unerringly  between  right  and  wrong.  This  opinion 
is  well-nigh  abandoned  by  scientific  psychologists.  A  com- 
plex moral  feeling  deserves  to  be  classed  as  an  emotion 
as  much  as  an  aesthetic  one.  It  is  true  that  the  emo- 
tion raised  by  the  contemplation  of  moral  attributes  is  a 
peculiar  one ;  so  is  the  feeling  raised  by  the  beautiful ;  so 
is  every  power  of  the  mind,  each  one  as  divinely  given 
as  any  other,  and  each  as  far  beyond  man's  capacity  to 
implant  in  matter  as  any  other.  What  is  called  conscience 
is  a  compound  of  intellectual  action  and  of  feeling. 

The  development,  or  evolutional,  theory  holds  that  the 
complex  moral  emotion  is  a  product  of  education,  that 
this  emotion  was  at  first  in  the  man  very  much  as  the 
oak  is  in  the  acorn  —  in  an  extremely  undeveloped  state. 
This  moral  feeling  slowly  developed  along  the  line  of 
utility,  —  not  to  the  self  alone,  but  also  to  the  tribe  or 
the  nation.  Hence  the  morally  right  is  that  which  makes 
for  the  welfare  of  the  greatest  number. 

The  standard  of  the  morally  right  has  changed  from 
age  to  age,  like  the  aesthetic  standard.  The  Romans 
thought  it  wrong  to  enslave  a  fellow  Roman,  not  so  an 
alien.  The  Spartan  thought  it  perfectly  right  to  put 
weak  children  to  death,  for  they  were  a  clog  to  the  tribe. 
The  evolutionist  says  that  the  standard  has  changed 
as  the  conception  of  utility  to  the  greatest  number  has 


FEELING   AND   EMOTION. 


271 


changed ;  for  instance,  when  times  of  constant  war  passed, 
weakly  children  no  longer  harmed  the  tribe  so  much  as 
before,  and  it  then  came  to  be  thought  wrong  to  kill 
them. 

The  true  theory  seems  to  be,  that  the  mind  has  original 
potential  capacity  for  feeling  in  many  ways,  for  instance 
in  a  moral  or  in  an  aesthetic  way ;  that  this  capacity  has 
been  developed  by  experience  and  education,  and  that  the 
development  is  still  going  on.  Moral  feeling  has  so  broad- 
ened that  the  nineteenth  century  has  seen  the  idea  of  the 
wrong  of  slavery  extended  from  the  whites  to  the  blacks. 
When  all  things  are  finally  averaged,  the  moral  will  be 
found  to  coincide  with  the  us^fa^. 

t<0  CL 

True  Meaning  of  Moral  Utility.  — The  fact  that  the 
moral  will  be  found  to  coincide  with  the  useful  in  the 
broadest  sense  is  liable  to  be  misunderstood.  Moral  , 

VL 

feeling  to-day  frequently  rises  when  no  consciousness  of>./ 

.,.      .  «      ,  ,    11    ,  11      \NU/v\u*ft 

utility  is  present.     If  a  boy  saw  a  bully  beating  a  smaller 

boy,  the  first  boy  would  have  a  feeling  of  moral  indigna- 
tion, and  he  might  also  interfere  without  a  thought  of 
utility  to  himself.  Few  human  beings  would  pass  by  a 
wounded  man  lying  unconscious  in  the  middle  of  a  lonely 
road,  although  the  traveler  might  be  sorely  inconvenienced 
in  giving  the  aid.  If  he  did  pass  by,  the  "serpent  of  re- 
morse "  might  always  hiss  in  memory's  ear. 

The  feeling  prompting  helpfulness  in  such  circumstances 
may  have  originally  been  due  to  a  desire  to  preserve  the 
family  or  the  tribe,  since  the  self  was  thereby  benefited. 
But  because  a  feeling  has  its  roots  in  utility,  it  does  not 
follow  that  this  element  is  present  in  the  fruit.  A  rose  is 
not  the  mold  out  of  which  the  plant  grew ;  but  it  is  just  as 
fragrant  as  if  it  had  not  sprung  from  the  earth. 


I 

272  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

How  Altruistic  Moral  Emotion  May  Have  Developed. — 

The  following  story  illustrates  how  selfish  emotion  may 
have  broadened  into  altruistic  moral  emotion  :  Two  hunt- 
ers, in  primitive  days,  go  hunting  together,  agreeing  to 
share  the  game.  They  separate  for  a  short  time,  when  one 
kills  a  fawn.  Almost  at  once  he  hears  a  cry  for  help  from 
his  companion,  who  is  attacked  by  a  wild  beast.  The 
first,  thinking  that  he  can  retain  the  whole  fawn  if  the 
other  is  killed,  does  not  stir  to  help  him,  but  throws  it 
across  his  shoulders  and  starts  homeward.  Soon  a  wild 
beast,  attracted  by  the  scent  of  the  fawn,  gives  chase,  and 
the  hunter  barely  escapes  by  throwing  the  fawn  to  the 
beast.  As  he  goes  home,  hungry  and  empty-handed,  he 
has  abundant  leisure  to  consider  how  both,  acting  together, 
might  have  defended  themselves,  and  saved  the  game,  and 
how  half  a  fawn  is  better  than  none.  He  thus  discovers, 
through  experience,  that  narrow  selfishness  does  not  pay, 
and  impresses  this  truth  upon  his  children. 

In  some  such  way  as  this,  the  moral  'altruistic  feelings 
arose.  Now  we  often  run  to  the  assistance  of  another 
without  a  thought  of  utility  to  self.  Every  age  sees  these 
feelings  broaden.  From  nothing,  nothing  is  evolved  j  but 
a  giant  oak  has  sprung  from  a  tiny  acorn. 


GENERAL  TRUTHS  PERTAINING  TO  FEELING  AND 
EMOTION. 

Instinctive  and  Unconscious  Tendencies.  —  At  the  basis 
of  emotion  is  an  instinctive  tendency  to  react  in  a  certain 
way,  when  the  proper  stimulus  is  felt.  When  the  stimulus 
of  increasing  cold  acts  upon  the  wild  goose  in  a  northern 
latitude,  the  fowl  manifests  restlessness  which  passes  into 
flight  toward  a  warmer  climate.  When  sense  or  ideational 


yw4.-jAj.js2a.  I 
ou  CloS  V» 


FEELING   AND   EMOTION. 


stimuli  act  upon  the  human  being,  they  tend  to  develop 
feeling  which  often  passes  over  into  more  complex  emo- 
tion. 

A  sense  stimulus  flows  into  the  brain  and  develops 
feeling  there  by  instinctive  reactions  in  the  nerve  cells. 
This  nervous  affection  is,  in  turn,  reflected  outward 
toward  the  muscles  and  vital  organs  and  back  from  them, 
by  laws  determined  for  the  individual  by  his  nervous  sys- 
tem. When  the  feeling  begins  with  an  idea,  the  excite- 
ment also  tends  to  spread  in  the  brain  and  to  overflow 
into  the  rest  of  the  nervous  system  ;  just  as  the  waves, 
by  mechanical  law,  spread  in  every  direction  when  a  stone 
is  thrown  into  a  small  lake  ;  and  when  they  strike  the 
shore,  they  are  reflected  back  toward  the  center. 

An  emotion  is  instinctive  in  proportion  as  the  stimulus 
tends  at  once  to  pass  into  conscious  reflex  action,  which 
is  necessarily  accompanied  by  elements  of  feeling.  Chil- 
dren will  manifest  fear  of  dogs  and  other  animals  before 
experience  has  developed  ideas  of  danger  from  them. 
When  a  man  runs  his  head  into  a  beam,  the  emotion  of 
anger  often  instinctively  develops,  before  reflection  can 
show  that  the  beam  was  not  to  blame.  Here  the  emotion 
of  anger  was  the  instinctive  reaction  to  the  stimulus.  In- 
fants frequently  become  instinctively  angry  when  a  toy 
slips  from  their  hands,  and  men  sometimes  kick  across  the 
floor  things  which  get  under  their  feet.  The  mother  does 
not  have  to  be  taught  to  love  her  child,  for  the  instinctive 
tendency  is  already  present. 

Many  of  our  emotions  rise  from  a  plurality  of  causes, 
some  of  which  may  have  been  operative  in  our  ancestrj* 
ages  ago.     There  is  no  doubt  that  a  tendency  to  think! 
feel,  and  act  in  a  certain  way  is  transmitted  by  heredity.p 
Darwin  noticed  that  kingfishers  on  catching  a  fish  beat 


274  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 

it  until  it  was  killed,  and  this  fact  explained  to  him  why 
a  captive  kingfisher  beat  a  piece  of  meat  before  eating  it. 
Some  persons  have  a  natural  love  for  machinery  or  art ; 
others  have  a  strong  aversion  to  them. 

Every  one  must  have  experienced  feelings, — joy,  sorrow, 
admiration,  hope,  fear,  —  arising  from  no  adequate  known 
cause ;  and  has  perhaps  sought  in  vain  for  their  source. 
Hoffding  thus  states  an  important  truth  :   "  Unconscious^ 
.impressions  play  an  especially  large  part  in  the  develop-! 
ment  of  the  feelings.     Feeling  is  determined  not  only  by' 
clear  and  distinct  sensations  and  ideas,  but  also  by  imper- 
ceptible influences,  the  sum  of  which  only  takes  effect  in 
consciousness.     Hence  the  mystical  and  inexplicable  char- 
acter of  so  many  feelings;   especially  when  first  excited 
are  they  incomprehensible  even  to  the  individual  himself, 
since  he  does  not  know  their   definite  causes.  .  .  .     We 
are  never  fully  conscious  of  the  influence  of  our  experi- 
ences and  the  condition   of  life  on  our  state   of  feeling, 
until   the   feeling  acquires  a  distinctly  marked   character 
or  even  perhaps  breaks  forth  in  actions.     Such  influences  I 
are  like  the  air  we  breathe  without  thinking  of  it.     They* 
occasion  within  us  a  quiet  growth  which  is  often  the  most 
important  and  decisive  factor  in  the  mental  life." 

From  this  it  follows  that  the  influences  one  grows  up 
under,  the  very  atmosphere  of  the  home,  school,  or  work, 
will  all  have  their  resultant  lifelong  effect  upon  the  feel 
ings.  So  will  the  books  one  reads,  the  company  one  keeps, 
the  throng  of  images  one  allows  to  pass  through  his  mind. 
If  a  person  wishes  to  be  happy  in  later  life,  he  must  look 
well  to  the  earlier  foundations  of  happiness. 

Factors  Determining  the  Rise  and  the  Decline  of  Emo- 
tion. —  On  the  day  of  the  death  of  a  relative,  the  emotion 


FEELING   AND   EMOTION. 


275 


of  grief  is  frequently  so  strong  as  to  render  impossible  any 
work  on  the  part  of  the  bereaved  person.  A  year  later  he 
is  attending  to  his  work  very  much  as  usual.  The  emo- 
tion reached  its  height  and  then  declined.  The  following 
are  the  principal  determining  factors  :  — 

(1)  The  relation  of  the  stimulus  to  the  instinctive  ten- 
dencies to  emotion  is  an  important  factor.     Many  of  the 
stimuli  of  life  are  not  accompanied  with  profound  emotion, 
because  they  are  not  fitted  to  rouse  the  deeper  instinctive 
tendencies.    Such  stimuli  are  the  air  we  breathe,  the  water 
we  drink,  and  many  of  the  most  ordinary  stimuli  that  daily 
affect  our  bodies.     On  the  other  hand,  the  cry  of  a  child 
is  directly  adapted  to  call  forth  the  deepest  emotion  from 
a  mother's  heart.     When  an  ill-bred  person  gives   us  a 
hard    slap   on    the  back,  the  majority  feel  angry  instinc- 
tively, because  the  blow  by  peculiarly  jarring  the  spinal 
column  sends  a  wave  of  bodily  resonance  to  the  brain. 

(2)  The  limitation  of  nervous  energy  is  the  second  factor 
affecting  the  height  and  continuation  of  emotion.     Strong 
emotions  involve  tremendous  nervous  wear.    As  the  nervous 
energy  is  lessened,  the  response  is  less  and  less  powerful. 
Hence  the  emotion  tends  to  decline,  both  because  the  body 
reflects  to  the  brain  less  strong  waves,  and  also  because  the 
brain  cells  themselves  become  exhausted  and  respond  with 
less  vigor.     Less  nervous  fuel  is  added  to  the  fire. 

(3)  The  nature  of  the  idea  is  an   important   factor  in 
determining  the  rapidity  of  the  rise  of  an  emotion.     The 
idea  of  a  glass  of  water  when  one  is  not  thirsty  will  have 
little  effect.     The  mental  image  of  a  glass  of  strong  drink 
may  raise  intense  desire  in  the  case  of  a  drunkard.     The 
prospect  of   the  loss  of  a  limb  or  of  one's  eyesight  will  x  j 
raise  strong  emotions  in  any  instance.     Stating  the  easel  W 
generally,  the  rapidity  of  the  rise  of  an  internally  initiated  '>/ 

/"I    s~*  ^^^fc   ^^*W 

." 

_,. 


276  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

emotion  will  be  due  to  the  amount  of  pleasure  or  pain, 
immediate  or  remote,  which  the  idea  suggests. 

The  decline  will  be  due  to  two  reasons  :  (i)  The  atten- 
tion cannot  be  intensely  centered  on  one  idea  indefinitely. 
Attention  implies  expenditure  of  brain  energy,  which  is 
not  inexhaustible.  As  attention  declines,  the  idea  grows 
weaker,  and  the  emotion  begins  to  subside.  When  the 
attention  is  drawn  away  from  mere  bodily  pain,  it  does 
not  seem  so  intense.  (2)  Ideas  of  other  things  force 
themselves  into  the  mind,  claiming  the  attention  and 
developing  counter  emotions,  which  tend  to  divert  the 
mental  energy  from  the  old.  This  is  the  reason  why 
physicians  so  often  prescribe  travel  for  both  bodily  and 
mental  ills.  In  this  way  new  things  occupy  the  attention, 
and  varying  emotions  develop  in  connection  with  them. 

Changeableness  of  Emotion.  —  We  shall  never  be  fitted 
to  deal  with  our  fellows  unless  we  recognize  the  fact  that 
the  emotional  world  must  be  one  of  change.  The  ele- 
ments of  feeling  entering  into  emotion  differ  with  every 
change  in  our  nervous  systems.  A  man  sick,  angry,  or 
hungry,  does  not  look  at  life  in  the  same  way  as  when 
he  is  healthy,  cheerful,  and  well  fed.  Any  one  may  notice 
how  hopeful  his  thoughts  often  are  in  the  morning,  and 
how  blue  and  uncertain  they  become  in  the  dead  of  night. 
A  contemplative  German  said  that  he  had  noticed  that 
he  often  had  a  different  opinion  when  lying  down  from 
what  he  had  when  standing.  Ideas  are  also  constantly 
changing,  furnishing  another  reason  for  changing  emo- 
tional states. 

Str}'£*  'mh  fit  th?  emntinnql  jrnn  ?>  lint,  ought   to   become  V,,' 
a  maxim,  for  emotion  does  not  generally  remain  long  at: 

. 


its   height.      An   agent   for  Grant's   Memoirs  said,   that. 


FEELING   AND    EMOTION.  277 

the  week  following  the  general's  death,  there  was  harder 
work  every  day  to  make  a  sale,  so  quickly  did  popular 
grief  decline.  A  certain  city,  at  the  time  of  Lincoln's 
death,  talked  of  raising  funds  for  a  monument.  Had 
the  paper  been  circulated  at  once,  a  million  would  have 
been  subscribed  within  a  week.  But  time  passed,  and 
much  difficulty  was  experienced  in  getting  subscriptions. 

Conspiring  and  Conflicting  Emotions.  —  If  we  knew  al 
the  emotions  that  swayed  a  man,  we  could  mark  out  with 
approximate  correctness  his  orbit  in  life.  The  trouble 
arises  from  the  complexity  of  the  problem,  from  the  fact 
that  different  emotions  act  counter  to  each  other  anc 
may  be  struggling  at  the  same  time.  It  is  seldom  that 
desires  all  pull  in  one  direction.  Ap 


may  wish  to  understand  a  certain  subject  involving  mud: 


Study.  The  love  of  ease  and  of  knowledge  pull  in  different 
directions ;  and  by  a  rough  application  of  the  principle  oi 
the  parallelogram  of  forces,  we  can  compute  the  person's 
course.  In  this  case  it  will  lie  between  the  path  of  hard 
unremitting  study  and  the  road  of  complete  indolence.  A 
person  both  vain  and  selfish  may  be  asked  for  a  contribu 
tion  to  a  charity.  Vanity  would  prompt  giving  ten  dollars 
merely  for  the  speech  of  people ;  selfishness  would  refuse 
to  contribute.  These  forces  pulling  in  different  direction* 
would  cause  a  compromise,  and  five  dollars  might  be  given 
A  person  may  have  a  desire  fo'r  strong  drink  and  ques 
tionable  amusements,  and  an  equally  strong  desire  to  be 
thought  well  of  by  people.  w*»  ormiH  pr^iVf  tint  |yj 


indulgences  would  be  on  the. sly. 

Life  is  largely  a  battlefield  of  conflicting  emotions  ;  and 
we  are  often  at  a  loss  to  know  which  course  is  the  more 
desirable.  The  greatest  classical  example  of  this  is  given 


2/8  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

in  Hamlet's  soliloquy.  Strong  emotions  urged  him  to 
lay  down  life,  equally  strong  ones  forbade  the  step,  and 
inaction  was  the  result.  Perhaps  the  next  greatest  ex- 
ample  occurs  in  Macbeth.  In  this  case,  the  conspiring 
emotions  were  love  of  fame,  power,  and  wealth,  and  a 
desire  to  gratify  his  wife's  ambition ;  those  conflicting 
were  the  feelings  of  -relationship  and  hospitality  for  the 
aged  king,  and  the  fear  of  having  to  be  tried  for  the  deed 
in  the  courts  of  a  future  life. 

Effect  of  Emotion  upon  Intellectual  Action.  —  Here  there 
is  again  a  conflict.  On  the  one  hand,  the  emotions  are 
favorable  to  intellectual  action,  since  they  supply  tke 
interest  onp  fppjfi  jp  gtn/iy  One  may  feel  intensely  con- 
cerning a  certain  subject  and  be  all  the  better  student. 
Hence  the  emotions  are  not,  as  was  formerly  thought, 
entirely  hostile  to  intellectual*  action.  Emotion  often 
quickens  the  perception,  burns  things  indelibly  into  the 
memory,  and  doubles  the  rapidity  of  thought. 

On  the  other  hand,  strong  feelings  often  vitiate  every 
operation  of  the  intellect.  They  cause  us  to  see  only  what 
we  wish  to,  to  remember  only  what  interests  our  narrow 
feelings  at  the  time,  and  to  reason  from  selfish  data  only. 
A  lawyer  said  :  "  If  it  were  not  for  the  deflecting  power  of 
emotion  upon  reason,  a  part  of  our  business  would  be  gone. 
I  now  have  a  client  suing  for  damages.  His  feelings  mag- 
nify his  own  two  and  two,"and  their  sum  appears  to  him  to 
be  five.  The  defendant  adds  up  that  same  two  and  two  in 
the  light  of  his  own  feelings  and  makes  their  sum  three. 
My  client  wants  a  damage  of  five,  so  to  speak  ;  his  oppo- 
nent is  willing  to  give  but  three.  Schoolmasters  may 
talk  about  the  universal  applicability  of  mathematical 
truths  —  how  they  never  vary  ;  but  such  talk  only  amuses 


FEELING  AND   EMOTION.  279 

us  in  practical  life.     Men  go  to  law  every  day  because  two 
and  two  are  five,  or  only  three,  to  them." 

Emotion  puts  the  magnifying  end  of  the  telescope  to 
our  intellectual  eye  where  our  own  interests  are  concerned, 
the  minimizing  end  when  we  are  looking  at  the  interests 
of  others.  It  is  very  common  for  two  persons  to  endeavor 
to  tell  their  ailments  at  the  same  time,  and  for  each  to 
pay  little  attention  to  the  other's  complaints.  Thought  is 
deflected  when  it  passes  through  an  emotional  medium, 
just  as  a  sunbeam  is  when  it  strikes  water. 


Ideas  Best  Fitted  to  Raise  Emotion.  —  Feeling  cannot 
be  compelled.  Even  if  a  person  wishes  to  feel  sorry,  he 
cannot  merely  because  some  one  tells  him  he  should. 
There  must  be  an  adequate  cause,  just  as  so  much  fuel 
must  be  consumed  to  raise  the  temperature  of  water  a 
given  number  of  degrees.  Many  would-be  orators  rave  and 
gesticulate  wildly,  but  excite  no  emotion  save  disgust  in 
their  hearers.  The  English  pulpit  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury shows  very  well  how  emotions  are  not  to  be  raised. 
The  clergy  preached  on  abstract  charity,  faith,  temperance, 
and  holiness.  Gin  mills  multiplied  under  this  kind  of 
preaching,  and  signs  like  the  following  were  displayed  in 
their  windows :  "Drunk  for  a  penny."  "Dead  drunk  for 
twopence ;  clean  straw  for  nothing."  The  nation  grew 
more  and  more  corrupt,  until  a  genius  arose  who  changed  lA* 
the  style  of  preaching. 

A  large  part  of  the  business  of  life  consists  in  moving 
the  emotions  of  men  so  as  to  get  them  to  act.  Those 
ideas  which  give  vivid  pictures  of  a  concrete  act  of  in- 
justice, of  the  doer  of  a  noble  deed,  of  an  actual  sufferer, 
seldom  fail  to  raise  emotion.  If  a  man  intends  to  get  a 
xxmtribution  for  the  sick  poor,  let  him  not  speak  in  general 


28O  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

terms  of  the  inconvenience  of  sickness,  the  pains  of  pov- 
erty. One  vivid  picture  of  a  forlorn  room  where  a  feeble 
mother  is  watching  her  sick  child,  for  whom  she  is  unable 
to  procure  proper  food,  will  be  infinitely  more  effective. 

Any  idea  which  suggests  gratification  of  desire,  any 
idea  which  vividly  pictures  something  affecting  the  welfare 
of  the  self  or  of  others,  is  apt  to  be  followed  by  emotion. 
Probably  no  one  can  even  imagine  a  person  in  a  burning 
car,  or  lying  helpless  with  broken  limbs  on  a  lonely  road, 
without  feeling  the  emotion  of  pity  arise. 


Contrast  Necessary  for  the  Full  Development  of  Emo- 
tional States.  —  The  principle  of  contrast  holds  good  with 
stimuli  of  all  classes,  and  especially  with  those  which 
produce  feeling  that  passes  into  emotion.  If  a  pickle 
is  eaten  immediately  after  candy,  the  stimulus  is  more 
pronounced.  A  dead  level  of  either  pleasurable  or  pain- 
ful emotion  cannot  maintain  its  intensity  for  a  great 
length  of  time.  If  a  child  is  scolded  once  in  a  while, 
the  admonition  may  do  some  good  ;  but  ceaseless  fault- 
finding will  end  by  producing  little  emotional  response. 
In  fact,  chronic  fault-finders  take  the  most  effective  means 
of  rendering  others  callous  to  their  complaints. 

Failure  to  understand  this  principle  of  contrast  is  the 
cause  of  much  disappointment  in  actual  life.  The  student 
argues  from  the  pleasures  of  one  holiday  to  three  months' 
or  a  whole  year's  vacation  ;  but  he  soon  finds  that  having 
nothing  definite  to  do  grows  very  tiresome.  He  frequently 
wishes  school  to  begin  that  the  monotony  may  be  relieved. 
Children  often  take  intense  pleasure  in  a  single  piece  of 
pie,  and  they  fancy  that  if  they  could  have  four  pieces  at 
one  time  their  pleasure  would  be  four  times  as  great  ; 
whereas  the  first  piece  seemed  so  good  because  it  came 


FEELING   AND   EMOTION.  28 1 

in  the  nature  of  a  change.  Young  people  often  think, 
from  the  enjoyment  received  in  spending  a  five  dollar  bill 
just  as  they  please,  that,  if  they  had  a  million  dollars  to 
spend,  the  pleasure  would  be  two  hundred  thousand  times 
as  great.  A  large  part  of  the  delight  from  spending  a 
small  sum  is  due  to  the  contrast  between  having  nothing 
to  spend  and  being  able  to'buy  a  few  luxuries.  The  fallacy 
that  unlimited  wealth  brings  unlimited  pleasure  is  a  very 
common  one.  It  ought  to  be  remembered  as  an  axiom, 
that  the  emotional  world  is  one  of  change. 

For  explanation  of  this  principle  of  contrast,  we  are,  at 
the  last  analysis,  forced  to  look  to  the  nervous  system. 
We  find  two  reasons :  (i)  The  nerve  cells  lose  their 
energy  for  continuous  keen  response  to  the  same  stimuli. 
(2)  Long-continued  stimuli  tend  to  make  new  reflex  paths 
in  the  nervous  matter.  A  reflex  response  is  never  accom- 
panied with  intense  consciousness  of  the  cause. 

The  Emotions  and  Health.  —  The  best  general  tonics  in 
the  world  are  hope,  joy,  and  its  "various  synonyms,  con- 
tentment, cheerfulness,  mirthfulness."  The  reverse  is  true 
of  grief,  fear,  and  anger.  There  is  an  old  saying  that  grief 
will  kill  a  cat.  The  first  emotional  hygienic  law  is  :  £e 
rhf-p-rjnl.  Through  the  hole  made  by  a  gunshot  wound  in 
the  abdomen  of  a  certain  man,  the  process  of  digestion  was 
visible.  The  doctors  noticed  that  whenever  he  experienced 
any  of  the  depressing  emotions,  such  as  grief,  fear,  or 
anger,  the  digestive  process  stopped  at  once. 

Dr.  Benjamin  Ward  Richardson  well  says:  "The  pas} 
sions   which   act   most  severely  on  the  physical  life  are\ 
anger,  fear,  hatred,  and   grief.     The   other   passions   are\ 
comparatively   innocuous.  ...     Of    all    the    passions    I 
have    enumerated    as    most    detrimental    fft    ]jf» 


282 


PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 


stands  first.  He  is  a  man  very  rich  indeed  in  physical 
power  who  can  afford  to  be  angry.  The  richest  cannot 
afford  it  many  times  without  insuring  the  penalty,  a  pen- 
alty that  is  always  severe.  .  .  .  We  say  a  man  was  '  red ' 
with  rage,  or  we  say  he  was  '  white '  with  rage,  by  which 
terms,  as  by  degrees  of  comparison,  we  express  the  extent 
of  his  fury.  Physiologically,  we  are  then  speaking  of  the 
nervous  condition  of  the  minute  circulation  of  his  blood  : 
that  'red'  rage  means  partial  paralysis  of  minute  blood- 
vessels; that  'white'  rage  means  temporary  suspension  of 
the  action  of  the  prime  mover  of  the  circulation  itself. 
But  such  disturbances  cannot  often  be  produced  without 
the  occurrence  of  permanent  organic  evils  of  the  vital 
organs,  especially  of  the  heart  and  of  the  brain." 

The  feeling  of  rhop_e  that  accompanies  faith  has  remark- 
able clirntJY^  pfifcrts  upon  the  body.  Sir  Humphry  Davy 
was  sent  for  to  treat  a  man  with  a  paralyzed  limb.  Sir 
Humphry  intended  to  administer  some  nitrous  oxide  gas 
as  a  specific ;  but,  before  doing  this,  he  wished  to  take  the 
patient's  temperature,  and  so  inserted  a  small  clinical  ther- 
mometer under  the  man's  tongue.  The  paralytic  evidently 
thought  this  little  thermometer  possessed  some  wonderful 
magnetic  or  electrical  power,  for  he  declared  that  he  felt 
its  helpful  influence  all  over  his  body.  His  confidence 
in  Sir  Humphry  was  so  great  that  the  latter  concluded 
not  to  give  any  medicine.  Every  day  for  a  fortnight  he 
inserted  the  thermometer  under  the  tongue  of  the  patient, 
who  was  discharged  cured  at  the  end  of  that  time. 

Some  of  the  wonderful  cures  stated  to  have  taken  place 
at  the  shrines  of  saints  are  undoubtedly  true.  The  strong 
hopeful  emotions  which  patients  would  feel  under  such 
circumstances  could  not  help  acting  as  a  powerful  restora- 
tive. The  English  monarchs  used  to  have  regular  days  for 


FEELING   AND    EMOTION.  283 

curing  certain  diseases  by  touch.  The  hopeful  emotions 
of  patients  thus  touched  sometimes  performed  astonishing 
cures.  On  the  other  hand,  the  story  of  Goody  Blake  and 
Harry  Gill  is  said  to  have  had  an  actual  source.  When 
listening  to  her  imprecations  beneath  the  cold  moon,  he 
may  have  been  impressed  with  the  fear  that  she  had  the 
superhuman  powers  of  a  witch.  We  thus  are  better  ena- 
bled to  understand  what  reasons  there  may  have  been  for 
the  belief  in  witchcraft. 

A  young  Englishwoman  was  passing  by  Deptford  Ceme- 
tery at  dusk  when  some  one  with  a  white  muffler  over  his 
face  rushed  out  and  chased  her.  The  powerful  emotion 
of  fear  thus  raised  paralyzed  her  heart,  and  she  died.  An 
autopsy  revealed  no  trouble  in  any  organ  except  the  heart. 

Dr.  Tuke  concludes  his  chapter  on  the  influence  of  the 
emotions  upon  the  bodily  sensations  by  saying  :  "  There  is 
no  sensation,  whether  general  or  special,  excited  by  agents 
acting  upon  the  body  from  without,  which  cannot  be  excited 
also  from  within  by  emotional  states  affecting  the  sensory 
centers,  such  sensations  being  referred  by  the  mind  to  the 
point  at  which  the  nerve  terminates  in  the  body." 

Contagion  of  Emotion  by  Sympathy.  —  It  is  remarkable 
low  quickly  an  emotion  will  spread  from  one  individual  to 
others.  The  emotion  of  fear,  which  at  first  breaks  out  in  a 
a  small  detachment  of  an  army,  may  soon  throw  the  entire 
lost  into  a  panic.  It  is  much  easier  for  a  speaker  to  move 
a  large  audience  than  a  small  one.  The  more  individuals 
present,  the  greater  is  the  chance  that  some  will  be  respon- 
sive to  one  kind  of  ideas ;  others,  to  another  kind.  The  emo- 
:ion  raised  by  either  will  tend  to  spread  to  those  who  might 
not  have  been  directly  affected.  In  the  history  of  the  world, 
ane  man  has  repeatedly  molded  a  mob  to  do  his  will. 


284 


PSYCHOLOGY  AND  PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 


Dr.  Benjamin  Ward  Richardson  instances  the  case  of  a 
girl  who  occasionally  visited  where  there  was  a  relative 
suffering  with  St.  Vitus'  dance.  The  girl  soon  sympa- 
thetically acquired  the  contortions  of  countenance  peculiar 
to  that  disease,  and  she  was  never  able  to  rid  herself  of 
them.  He  also  tells  how  the  child  of  an  English  scientist 
spontaneously  commenced  to  imitate  the  contortions  of 
her  father's  patient,  not  in  mockery,  but  as  if  governed  by 
uncontrollable  impulse.  From  this  child  the  disease  spread 
to  another,  and  so  on  to  a  third.  They  recovered  only 
after  being  carefully  separated  from  each  other  and  from 
the  original  cause.  The  writer  knows  a  person  who  is  a 
confirmed  stammerer,  due  to  sympathetic  imitation  of  a 
stutterer. 

/'bur  emotional  state  is,  in  part,  determined  by  the  pre- 
vailing emotional  tone  of  those  around  us,  and  we  at  the 
same  time  help  to  color  their  lives.  All  people  tend  to 
reflect  their  surroundings.  Even  pictures  of  smiling  faces 
often  cause  the  observers  themselves  to  smile.  It  is 
difficult  to  be  sour  in  a  merry  company.  Persons  who 
grow  up  in  a  cheerful  family  or  community  generally 
catch  the  dominant  emotion.  Members  of  a  family  where 
the  usual  tone  is  pessimistic  or  fault-finding,  seldom  prove 
desirable  to  live  with.  The  practical  truth  to  be  deduce"cS 
from  this  is,  not  only  to  try  to  be  cheerful  one's  self,  but\ 
to  seek  cheerful  company.  —  -/  • 


Q 

CHAPTER   XI. 

THE  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EMOTIONS. 


Formation  of  Correct  Emotional  Habits.  —  All  emotions 
deepen  by  repetition.  If  one  allows  an  undesirable  feel- 
ing to  master  him  once,  he  should  be  on  the  watch  to 
check  that  feeling  at  the  start  on  the  occasion  of  a  second 
manifestation.  The  man  who  falls  into  a  rage  once,  falls 
into  the  same  emotion  easier  a  second  time  ;  the  man  who 
keeps  cool  once  under  trying 'circumstances,  will  be  more 
easily  able  to  control  himself  the  next  time.  If  a  perso 
forms  the  habit  of  being  pleased  with  small  things  as 
as  great,  joy  may  become  his  dominant  emotion.  After  a 
while  he  will  find  it  hard  work  to  become  displeased  with 
many  occurrences  at  which  another  is  constantly  grum- 
bling. Looking  on  the  bright  side  of  life  soon  grows  to 
be  as  much  of  a  habit  as  the  reverse. 

Some  persons  start  a  train  of  worrying  emotions  the 
moment  a  move  is  made.  If  a  member  of  the  family 
goes  driving,  a  runaway  is  the  only  possible  end ;  if 
walking,  something  ill  must  result ;  if  sailing  or  row- 
ing, drowning  must  be  the  outcome.  On  the  other 
hand,  a  person  accustomed  to  look  on  the  bright  side 
of  life  feels  a  pleasurable  glow  of  emotion  in  thinking  how 
much  enjoyment  the  absent  one  is  probably  experiencing 
from  the  drive,  the  walk,  the  sail,  or  the  row.  Any  person 
can,  to  a  certain  extent,  bring  about  a  desired  emotional 

285 


PSYCHOLOGY  AND    PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

change  by  summoning  only  those  ideas  which  tend  to  raist 
the  desired  emotions.  If  a  relative  crosses  the  Atlantic, 
and  if  those  at  home  desire  to  have  a  joyful  feeling  in  the 
ascendency,  let  them  think  of  the  strength,  comfort,  and 
careful  management  of  the  steamships,  of  the  far  less  pro- 
portional loss  of  life  from  water  than  from  land  travel.  If 
the  emotion  of  grief  is  desired,  let  ideas  be  summoned  of 
icebergs,  fogs,  collisions,  people  starving  in  open  boats, 
and  drowned  persons  tossed  upon  the  beach  by  the  waves. 
r^*The  truth  cannot  be  too  strongly  emphasized,  that  a 
I  habit  of  emotional  feeling  is,  at  the  outset,  often  the  result 
[of  an  intellectual  habit.  Summon  different  ideas  to  the 
mind,  and  notice  how  the  emotion  changes  with  the  idea. 
Let  a  messenger  implant  in  a  mother's  mind  the  idea 
that  her  son  has  just  been  killed  in  an  accident.  Every 
one  knows  what  kind  of  an  emotion  will  follow.  Let 
a  second  messenger  come,  saying  that  the  boy  is  not 
dead  but  only  injured,  probably  not  fatally.  Another 
emotion  follows  the  lead  of  that  idea.  Let  a  third  mes- 
senger come  with  the  news  that  a  mistake  has  been  made 
in  the  identification,  that  her  son  is  uninjured.  A  dif- 
ferent emotion  follows  this  idea.  Tn  rppregg  r^n-^n  tr^inc 


repress  thfi  irlpgg  that-  g-i'v^  t-Viprq  frjrU1  This 
will  have  restraining  power,  even  where  the  emotional 
state  tends  to  bring  up  a  consonant  idea,  just  as  a  fire 
may  suggest  the  idea  of  putting  fuel  on  it. 

Culture  by  the  Repression  of  Emotional  Expression.  — 
The  nervous  concomitants  of  emotion  demand  attention  as 
well  as  the  intellectual  elements.  As  we  have  seen,  ner- 
vous action  is  a  strong  element  in  emotion.  Has  a  person 
any  control  over  his  nerves  ?  One  would  think  that  only 
very  young  children  would  ask  such  a  question,  but  such 


THE  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EMOTIONS.  287 

is  not  the  case.  We  innervate  our  motor  nerves  and  start 
to  pick  up  a  pear.  We  notice  a  hornet  on  the  pear,  and 
we  inhibit  the  movement.  By  restraining  the  expression 
of  an  emotion,  we  can  frequently  throttle  it ;  by  inducing 
an  expression,  we  can  often  cause  its  allied  emotion. 

Professor  James  says:  "Refuse  to  express  a  passion  and 
it=jdififi.  Count  ten  before  venting  your  anger,  and  its 
occasion  seems  ridiculous.  Whistling  to  keep  up  courage 
is  no  mere  figure  of  speech.  On  the  other  hand,  sit  all 
day  in  a  moping  posture,  sigh,  and  reply  to  everything 
with  a  dismal  voice,  and  your  melancholy  lingers.  There 
is  no  more  valuable  precept  in  moral  education  than  this, 
as  all  who  have  experience  know :  If  we  wish  to  conquer 
undesirable  emotional  tendencies  in  ourselves,  we  must 
assiduously,  and  in  the  first  instance  cold-bloodedly,  go 
through  the  outward  movements  of  those  contrary  dispo- 
sitions which  we  prefer  to  cultivate.  .  .  .  Smooth  the 
brow,  brighten  the  eye,  contract  the  dorsal  rather  than 
the  ventral  aspect  of  the  frame,  and  speak  in  a  major 
key,  pass  the  genial  compliment,  and  your  heart  must  be 
frigid  indeed  if  it  does  not  gradually  thaw"  (i).  Thus  w£ 
see  that  if  we  put  on  a  cheerful  air,  the  expression  will! 
react  upon  our  feelings  and  make  us  actually  happier. 
Some  persons  have  become  habitually  morose  from  allow-J 
ing  expression  to  their  incipient  disagreeable  feelings.  J 

Novices  frequently  make  the  mistake  of  thinking  that 
intense  expression  of  emotion  indicates  not  only  a  char- 
acter rich  in  feeling,  but  also  one  that  will  make  great 
unselfish  sacrifices  for  the  welfare  of  others.  The  truth 
lies  generally  in  the  opposite  direction.  Many  persons 
expend  all  their  energies  in  the  expression  of  emotion 
and  have  none  left  for  action.  Some  demonstrative  people 
find  it  difficult  to  understand  that  to  feel  intense  sympathy 


288  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

is  not  the  same  as  to  exert  themselves  in  actually  reliev- 
ing distress.  The  world  could  very  well  spare  a  millioii 
of  those  who  only  feel  for  a  dozen  of  those  who  act. 

Culture  of   the  Altruistic  and  Moral  Emotions.  —  Enr, 

lightened  sympathy  is  at  the  basis  of  all  ethks^.  The 
steps  leading  to  intelligent  sympathetic  emotion  have 
already  been  pointed  out.  To  give  it  practical  material 
to  work  with,  one  must  go  out  into  the  world,  observe 
carefully  instances  of  happiness  and  misery,  sickness  and 
poverty,  disappointment  and  heartache  from  life's  hundred- 
handed  causes.  Occasional  visits  to  the  sick  and  suffer- 
ing poor  frequently  serve  to  stimulate  altruistic  emotion 
strongly.  One  cannot  grow  sympathetic  if  he  shuts  him- 
self^wayJr.Qjm_jthe^  world.  For  this  reason  an  only  chilu 
is  generally  selfish.  If  a  kitten  is  to  be  kept  as  a  pet,  it 
should  be  brought  up  with  other  kittens.  It  will  then 
learn  in  the  school  of  experience  the  pains  due  to  playful 
scratches,  and  scratch  less  often. 

The  experience  of  young  persons  is  generally  too  limited 
for  their  moral  emotions  to  be  well  developed.  The  young 
need  to  be  brought  face  to  face  with  that  additional  human 
action  which  is  given  in  the  pages  of  history  and  of  fic- 
tion. Such  characters  as  Nero,  Luther,  Alfred  the  Great, 
Cromwell,  Napoleon,  Wellington,  Washington,  Clarkson, 
and  Wilberforce  will  leave  their  mark  on  the  moral  emo- 
tions. The  religious  persecutions,  the  Spanish  conquest 
of  Mexico  and  Peru,  the  treatment  of  the  American  Indian, 
the  drama  of  human  slavery, — all  are  historic  actions  which 
have  a  powerful  moral  bearing  The  pages  of  the  greatest 
novelists  teerh  with  actions  which  call  forth  our  moral 
approval  or  disapproval.  The  tone  of  the  family,  thel 
school,  and  the  community,  in  which  a  person  is  brought] 


THE  CULTIVATION   OF  THE   EMOTIONS.  289 

lup,  has  a  constant  powerful  effect  in  molding  his  moral 
jemotions.  No  one  will  ever  cultivate  these  to  the  best 
advantage  unless  he  constantly  watches  his  own  actions 
and  notes  their  effect  upon  others,  unless  fre  frequently 
puts  himself  in  another's  place.  This  necessitates  culture 
of  the  reasoning  powers  and  of  the  imagination. 

Culture  of  the  Esthetic  Emotions.  — The  three  elements 
in  aesthetic  feeling — the  sensuous,  the  intellectual,  and  the 
associative  —  indicate  the  line  of  cultivation.  One's  nerves 
as  well  as  one's  muscles  improve  with  exercise.  We  have 
said  before  that  no  amount  of  exercise  will  enable  a 
weak  man's  muscles  to  equal  a  Sullivan's,  but  they  will 
improve.  This  truth  must  be  maintained  in  the  face  of 
the  false  assertion  that  a  man's  nerves,  brain,  and  other 
parts  of  his  body  are  given  him  once  for  all  and  are  sub- 
ject to  no  improvement.  It  is  a  matter  of  record  that 
nerves  have  improved  in  discriminating  power,  whether 
in  reference  to  sound,  colors,  taste,  touch,  or  odors.  With; 
exercise  on  the  proper  objects,  the  nervous  mechanism 
concerned  in  the  feeling  of  sensuous  beauty  can  be  im 
proved.  Flowers,  leaves,  sunsets,  paintings,  varied  seen 
ery,  —  all  will  contribute  to  the  cultivation  of  this  factor 
of  aesthetic  feeling.  Lack  of  this  exercise  early  in  life 
will  permanently  weaken  the  power. 

The  rules  for  the  cultivation  of  thought  apply  equally 
well  to  the  intellectual  factor  of  aesthetics.  The  tracing 
out  of  unity  amid  variety,  of  symmetry,  harmony,  and 
rhythm  in  any  branch  of  study,  puts  one  on  the  right 
road  to  this  culture.  One  feels  a  touch  of  aesthetic  feel- 
ing in  discovering  the  unity  of  relation  between  anything 
so  varied  as  the  leaves  of  a  tree  and  the  lungs  of  a  man, 
or  the  analogy  between  the  human  soul  and  the  butterfly. 
HAI.I.KCK'S  PSYC.  — 19 


\wxrurluUiL 


290  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 


The  study  of  the  best  poetry  is  specially  fitted  to  cultivate 
the  aesthetic  emotions  on  the  intellectual  side. 

To  get  the  fullest  amount  of  beauty  due  to  association 
requires  universal  cultivation.  The  great  truths  of  nature, 
of  history,  of  biography,  and  of  literature  must  be  known. 
The  more  a  traveler  knows  of  the  associations  clustering 
around  the  various  places  that  he  visits,  the  more  aesthetic 
gratification  will  he  receive.  If  he  stands  on  the  wind- 
swept promontory  of  Whitby  without  knowing  that  it  is 
the  birthplace  of  English  song,  or  the  story  of  the  poet 
who  there  first  struck  the  lyre  which  Milton  afterwards 
took  up ;  if  the  Trosachs  are  visited  before  Scott's  Lady 
of  the  Lake  has  been  read  ;  if  a  trip  is  taken  up  the 
Hudson  by  one  unfamiliar  with  Washington  Irving's 
works,  —  much  beauty  will  in  every  case  be  lost. 

In  general,  we  may  say  with  Allen  that  "good  taste 
is  the  progressive  product  of  progressing  fineness  and 
discrimination  in  the  nerves,  educated  attention,  high  and 
noble  emotional  constitution,  and  increasing  intellectual 
faculties  "  (2).  To  cultivate  the  aesthetic  emotions,  it  i3 
absolutely  necessary  to  remove  the  attention  from  tha 
self  and  to  make  it  objective.  One  selfish  element  shat- 
ters this  feeling.  It  is  hard  for  a  conceited  or  a  selfish 
person  to  find  beauty  in  anything  but  himself.  A  person 
always  desirous  of  self-aggrandizement,  whether  in  the 
direction  of  money  or  influence,  can  rarely  get  much  aes- 
thetic comfort  from  the  world,  because  his  thoughts  have 
become  habituated  to  running  selfward. 


ENJOYMENT  AS  A  FINE  ART. 

The  Object  of  Life.  —  With  the  passing  of  asceticism 
and  its  abuse  of  the  body,  the  feeling  that  it  is  wicked 


THE  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EMOTIONS.  291 

to  be  happy  has  slowly  declined.  The  belief  that  it  is 
one's  duty  to  enjoy  this  life,  is  slowly  prevailing.  Logi- 
cally, there  are  three,  and  only  three,  possible  alternatives 
in  life.  We  can  plan  (i)  to  be  happy,  (2)  to  be  unhappy, 
(3)  to  be  neither  happy  nor  unhappy,  but  in  a  neutral 
state  like  sleep  or  unconsciousness.  We  are  limited 
absolutely  to  these  three  courses.  This  logical  division 
shows  that  the  only  point  for  dispute  relates  to  the  means 
to  be  employed  for  securing  happiness,  misery,  or  a  neutral 
condition. 

Any  order  of  beings  that  prefers  pain  to  pleasure  is 
speedily  eliminated  by  the  conditions  of  existence.  If 
one  constantly  picked  up  red-hot  irons,  drank  strong  acids 
or  boiling  water,  or  wounded  his  body,  he  would  soon 
perish.  Pain  is  an  alarm  bell  rung  to  warn  us  that  some 
part  of  tfre  body  is  suffering-  disintegration.  Pain  is  beau- 
tiful only  as  a  series  of  well-directed  signals  to  warn  us 
that  we  are  treading  on  dangerous  places ;  it  is  the  result 
of  bodily  impairment  or  moral  sin.  It  must  be  empha- 
sized at  the  outset,  however,  that  ill  adaptation  to  environ- 
ment and  the  existence  of  sin  render  it  absolutely  impos- 
sible that  we  should  escape  all  pain ;  only  the  amount 
ought  not  to  be  thoughtlessly  or  needlessly  increased. 
But  the  pains  due  to  selfishness  and  lack  of  sympathy 
will  be  found  greater  than  those  involved  in  the  effort 
to  be  unselfish  and  sympathetic.  This  has  been  suffi- 
ciently emphasized  in  preceding  sections. 

There  must  also  be  a  sharp  distinction  drawn  between 
what  is  merely  distasteful  and  what  is  painful.  A  pupil 
may  have  a  distaste  for  study,  but  he  will  never  amount 
to  anything,  nor  lay  the  foundations  of  happiness,  unless  he 
conquers  that  distaste.  Again,  actions  which  are  painful 
at  the  start  may,  through  the  adaptation  of  the  organism 


2Q2  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

or  the  mental  powers,  come  to  be  positively  pleasur- 
able. On  the  other  hand,  things  which  are  accompa- 
nied with  pleasure  at  the  start  often  bring  lasting  pain. 
Hence,  in  seeking  for  enjoyment,  the  future  must  ever  be 
borne  in  mind.  Only  those  actions  are  to  be  recom- 
mended, which  bring  the  greatest  permanent  elements  of 
enjoyment  to  the  greatest  number.  One  individual  may 
have  to  perish  to  save  others.  Such  is  the  law  of-  life. 

Factors  in  Enjoyment.  —  The  factors  in  enjoyment  will 
repay  careful  study.  In  order  to  enjoy  anything,  there  must, 
first,  be  something  to  enjoy.  In  order  to  enjoy  a  house  in 
cold  weather,  one  must  first  have  the  house.  If  the  sitting- 
room  is  handsomely  furnished  ;  if  there  are  entertaining 
pictures,  ornaments,  books,  a  handsome  carpet  and  furni- 
ture, there  is  something  more  to  enjoy.  But  this  is  not  all  ; 
in  fact,  it  is  less  than  half.  A  person  racked  with  pain 
could  not  enjoy  the  room  ;  health,  also  is  npic.essafv-ief 
An  uncultivated  person  could  not  derive  much 


pleasure  from  the  pictures,  the  delicate  ornaments,  and  the 
books  ;  ajcultiyated  mind  must  be  had.  If  the  inmates  flew 
into  fits  of  rage,  or  acted  inconsiderately  and  selfishly,  there 
would  be  heartaches  and  unhappiness  ;  ihejejmist,  there- 
fore, be  moral  control,  the  control  of  the  emotions. 

It  is  well  to  notice  that  there  are  several  factors  in 
enjoyment,  all  as  necessary  as  the  heart,  the  lungs,  the 
liver,  and  the  stomach  are  to  the  body.  A  discussion 
between  the  heart  and  the  lungs  in  regard  to  which  is 
the  more  necessary,  would  be  extremely  unprofitable.  Life 
could  not  be  maintained  in  the  absence  of  either  organ. 
An  ill-clad,  homeless  person  out  in  the  wintry  night,  with 
the  sleet  cutting  him  like  a  lash,  lacks  what  may  be  called 
the  objective  elements  of  happiness,  e.g.  good  clothes  and 


THE  CULTIVATION   OF  THE   EMOTIONS.  293 

a  warm  home.     All  the  preaching  in  the  world  will  not 
make  this  man  happy ;  he  has  nothing  to  enjoy. 

The  S2tbjective,  or  rather  the  personal,  elements  of  hapti 
piness  are  (i)  health,  (2)  intellectual  education,  (3)  cultivated^ 
emotions,  and  (4)  a  trained  imll.  Diminish  any  one  of] 
these  factors  and  the  capacity  for  enjoyment  is  lessened. 

In  order  to  enjoy  food,  there  must  be  something  to  eat 
as  well  as  a  good  stomach,  and  a  good  stomach  as  well  as 
something  to  eat.  Asceticism  failed  of  enjoyment  and  made 
its  devotees  wretched,  because  it  neglected  the  objective 
side  of  pleasure.  Materialism  has  not  brought  permanent] 
happiness,  because  sufficient  attention  has  not  been  paid 
to  the  subjective  factors,  especially  morals. 

Occasional  change,  or  contrast,  is  a  necessary  factor  for 
enjoyment.  Leisure  is  much  more  enjoyed  after  a  period 
of  hard  work.  The  buds  and  blossoms  of  the  spring  thrill 
us  with  pleasure  after  the  barrenness  of  the  winter,  but 
the  pleasure  soon  declines  because  of  the  well-known  emo- 
tional law  based  on  declining  nervous  response  and  intel- 
lectual attention.  We  enjoy  travel  because  there  is  an 
element  of  constant  change  in  it,  but  we  should  grow 
weary  if  we  traveled  all  the  time. 

The  man  of  one  idea,  who  keeps  himself  in  one  routine 
of  thought  or  business,  may  go  through  life  with  few  pains 
but  he  will  not  know  what  varied,  keen  enjoyment  is 
This  is  the  strongest  possible  argument  for  a  liberal  edu- 
cation. A  person  so  trained  has  many  points  of  attach 
ment  to  the  pleasures  of  life.  He  drinks  in  fuller  measure 
of  the  cup  passed  to  him  in  the  hands  of  variety  and  con- 
trast. His  tastes  are  not  narrow.  But  we  must  caution 
those  naturally  fickle,  that  this  principle  of  contrast  wil 
not  work  unless  there  are  periods  of  unremitting  labor  on 
some  one  thing.  The  mind  cannot  appreciate  contras* 


294  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

nntil  the  mental  powers  have  fathomed  the  subject  in 
hand.  Some  persons  insist  on  so  much  change,  that  the 
change  is  the  rule  ;  and  there  is  no  contrast  in  one  line 
of  action,  even  if  that  line  is  constant  change. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  only  the  wealthy  can 
bring  into  their  lives  the  element  of  change  requisite 
for  enjoyment.  If  one  keeps  himself  on  the  alert  for 
contrast  and  change,  he  will  be  astonished  to  find  out 
how  much  may  come  even  to  the  meanest  life,  if  there 
is  the  intellect  to  observe  and  the  imagination  to  gild. 
Scotland's  greatest  poet  was  a  poor  plowman,  but  he 
had  an  eye  for  contrast,  and  a  power  to  make  the  most 
out  of  the  paltry  changes  in  his  life.  To  all  there  comes 
the  quiet  of  the  winter,  followed  by  one  of  the  most 
pleasing  imaginable  changes,  —  the  budding  life  of  spring. 
Changeful  Nature  ushers  in  the  summer  with  its  varied 
fruits,  and  then  the  autumn  with  its  harvest  and  won- 
derful coloring.  Each  period  of  twenty-four  hours  brings 
remarkable  changes  —  the  sunrise  glinting  on  dew  or  frost 
or  alchemizing  the  clouds,  the  full  day  with  its  inflowing 
tide  of  industry,  the  glowing  sunset,  and  the  starry  night. 
This  is  a  wonderful  world  of  change,  and  the  life  of  a 
person  of  varied  culture  can  never  be  humdrum. 

Another  strong  factor  in  enjoyment  is  activity.  Inactive 
persons  never  attain  high  enjoyment.  Pleasure  is  an  in- 
variable accompaniment  of  activity  of  the  right  kind.  The 
power  to  enjoy  one's  self  is  augmented  by  every  increase 
of  bodily  and  mental  vigor.  One  must  have  an  aim  in  life 
and  be  active  in  accomplishing  something.  Tljgre  is  more 
in  wearing.  than  in  rusting,  out. 


Pretensions  Fatal   to   Enjoyment.  —  The  giving  up  of 
many   pretensions   is   absplutely   necessary  to  happiness. 


THE  CULTIVATION   OF  THE   EMOTIONS.  295 

Many  of  the  pretensions  with  which  an  individual  starts 
in  life  are  not  of  the  slightest  use  to  him.  He  causes 
himself  much  trouble  in  maintaining  them  before  the 
world,  because  it  will  judge  him  by  his  success  in  playing 
the  character  he  assumes.  There  are  innumerable  persons 
1r>-Hay  hpraiisp  r>f  thfir  mngiral,  qfhktJC.  and 


prfitfnsirm<;      People  are  constantly  weighing 


themselves  down  by  pretending  to  knowledge  of  which*1 
they  have  only  a  smattering,  to  the  possession  of  a  small  * 
foot  made  by  wearing  a  torturing  shoe,  to  a  petite  figurfc/ 
secured  at  the  expense  of  deformity,  to  be  wealthy  wheiT 
they  are  forced  to  run  in  debt.  Laying  aside  the  burden 
of  these  pretensions  would  give  them  a  chance  to  enjoy 
themselves.  If  a  person  makes  no  pretensions  to  a  knowl- 
edge of  art,  Italian,  chemistry,  architecture,  music,  or  sail* 
ing  a  boat,  people  will  think  nothing  of  his  ignorance  in 
these  matters.  He  will  be  judged  by  what  he  does  pre* 
tend  to  know,  and  no  sensible  person  will  expect  him  to 
be  a  universal  genius.  UJvoJui^xx,  fiU\5_  P^oSfU^  C^o 
teSt  t>  eoutAjLA  %juxn  \oR*LoX  ^x. 
Enjoyment  by  Indirect  Means.  —  It  has  been  said  thai 
enjoyment  never  comes  when  searched  for,  that  pleasure 
must  be  obtained  by  indirect  means,  that  it  comes  as  a 
gratuity  only  when  something  else,  e.g.  duty,  is  the  para- 
mount object.  This  statement  is  probably  more  than 
three  quarters  true,  yet  the  fact  that  it  is  not  entirely  so 
has  caused  many  to  repudiate  the  theory  completely.  If 
a  person  went  to  Europe  with  the  prime  object  of  enjoying 
the  trip  ;  if  two  years  before  he  started  he  began  to  read 
about  the  points  of  interest  in  the  countries  he  intended 
to  visit,  with  the  sole  object  of  receiving  enjoyment  there- 
from, —  his  pleasure  on  the  trip  would  not  thereby  be 
lessened.  A  theatrical  performance  will  probably  be  en- 


296  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

joyed  just  as  much,  if  one  attends  it  for  the  purpose  ot 
receiving  direct  pleasure. 

Asceticism  taught  the  opposite  view.  But  in  spite  of 
these  self-evident  instances  to  the  contrary,  it  is  true  that, 
if  one  makes  selfish  enjoyment  his  pursuit,  he  will  ulti- 
mately fail  in  the  attainment.  A  trip  abroad  would  bet 
vastly  more  enjoyed,  if  there  were  an  agreeable  companion! 
to  share  the  pleasure.  It  is  a  matter  of  record  that  enjoy- 
ment of  the  very  highest  type  has  come  from  making 
others  happy.  He  that  seeketh  his  own  selfish  life  of 
pleasure  shall  lose  it,  is  a  statement,  the  truth  of  which 
is  every  year  demonstrated  by  the  selfish ;  for  they  shut 
themselves  out  of  the  world  of  keenest  enjoyment. 

Necessity  of  Early  Learning  How  to  Enjoy.  —  There  is 
a  time  in  the  lives  of  almost  all  when  the  emotions  are 
ripe  for  certain  courses  of  action.  The  desire  will  cease 
if  the  means  for  gratification  are  neglected  for  a  certain 
length  of  time.  The  boy  who,  from  timidity  or  lack  of 
leisure,  neglects  athletic  sports  will  soon  find  that  his  love 
for  them  is  gone.  To  take  them  up  at  a  later  time  will 
seem  strange  and  irksome  to  him. 

There  are  persons  who  have  been  enthusiastic  travelers 
until  past  seventy,  because  their  youthful  passion  for  see- 
ing something  of  the  world  was  gratified  when  the  emotion 
was  strong.  It  was  repressed  in  others  who  had  the  desire 
equally  strong.  At  the  age  of  forty  they  found,  when  aA 
chance  for  travel  finally  presented  itself,  that  strange  food, 
strange  beds,  strange  people,  strange  climates,  with  the 
interruption  of  established  habits,  brought  more  discom- 1 
fort  than  pleasure.  These  persons  returned  to  their  old 
haunts,  wondering  what  enjoyment  theii  former  associates 
could  find  in  being  carried  around  from  pillar  to  post, 


THE  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  EMOTIONS. 


297 


chilled  with  Alpine  cold  and  bitten  by  Italian  fleas.  And 
yet  if  these  disgusted  people  had  traveled  while  desire  was 
strong  and  adaptability  great,  the  fleas  and  frosts  would 
have  been  only  small  clouds  in  the  sky  of  pleasure. 

A  desire  for  reading  about  people  in  strange  countries, 
an  interesting  historical  epoch,  or  the  deeds  of  some  great 
man,  is  generally  present  in  youth.  If  not,  the  desire  may 
then  be  easily  cultivated,  whereas  it  cannot  be  in  later  life. 
Again  and  again  have  persons,  whose  early  training  was 
neglected,  endeavored  to  acquire  a  liking  for  reading. 
Time  hung  heavy;  they  had  no  entertaining  company; 
but  they  simply  could  not  get  interested  in  books.  The 
twi£  r^'iH  have  b^p"  hpnt-,  hnt  {;bp  tree  cannot. 


I 


A  study  of  animals  has  shown  that,  in  many  cases  an 
instinct  will  die  unless  it  is  gratified  at  the  proper  time. 
Dogs  have  been  kept  on  a  hard  floor  while  young  until 
their  instinct  for  burying  food  had  passed  away.  A  hen 
took  her  litter  of  chickens  to  a  lake  and  endeavored  to  get 
them  to  swim.  She  had  previously  hatched  only  ducks 
and  had  thus  formed  a  new  habit  of  caring  for  her  young. 
"  Mr.  Spalding  tells  me  of  a  friend  of  his  who  reared  a  gos- 
ling in  the  kitchen,  away  from  all  water  ;  when  this  bird 
was  some  months  old  and  was  taken  to  a  pond,  it  not  only 
refused  to  go  into  the  water,  but  when  thrown  in,  scram- 
bled out  again  as  a  hen  would  have  done.  Here  was  an 
instinct  entirely  suppressed  "  (3). 

The  same  analogy  holds  good  in  the  vegetable  world. 
Seeds  will  sprout  only  under  the  right  conditions  ;  and 
after  they  have  sprouted,  they  will  die  unless  they  soon 
have  the  proper  soil  in  which  to  grow. 

All  these  arguments  show  that  it  is  of  prime  importance 
to  nourish,  in  the  bud,  all  those  inclinations,  tending  to 
develop  in  us  powers  which  may  be  the  basis  of  much 


298  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

future  enjoyment.  On  the  other  hand,  if  an  early  im- 
moral tendency,  whether  toward  strong  drink,  gambling, 
or  other  form  of  vice,  is  repressed,  the  desire  in  that  direc- 
tion will  grow  weaker  and  weaker,  and  finally  die  for  lack 
of  food.  Nature  emphasizes  the  fact  that  she  has  one 
time  for  a  thing.  The  thoughtless  person  may  delude 
himself  with  the  idea  that  he  can  plant  his  Indian  corn 
in  the  autumn.  So  he  can,  but  Nature  will  not  allow  him 
to  reap  a  harvest. 

he  duty  of  enjoyment  should  be  taught  as  a  question 
of  morals.     Deprivation  of  food  and  clothing  weakens  the 
Dody.     Deprivation  of  pleasure  tends  to  make  the  life  hard, 
unimaginative,  and  hence   unsympathetic.     Pleasures  are 
argely  the  result  of  the  play  of  the  imagination  and  the 
cinder  graces  in  general.     More  than  half   our  pleasure"! 
comes  from  anticipation,  and  that  is  a  manifestation  of  the  \ 
constructive  imagination.     Those  who  have  paid  but  little 
attention  to  judicious  enjoyment  are  generally  not  pleasant 
to  live  with.     Their  narrowness  and   want   of   sympathy 

chill  all  with  whom  they  come  in  contact 

^   »  *  /      / 


AUTHORITIES   QUOTE 

1.  James's  Principles  of  Psychology,  Vol.  II.,  pp.  462-3. 

2.  Grant  Allen's  Physiological  ^Esthetics,  p.  48. 

3.  Lewes's  Problems  of  Life  and  Mind,  quoted  by  James,  Princi- 
ples of  Psychology,  Vol.  II.,  p.  400. 


^  CHAPTER  XII. 

^  THE  WILL. 

,  IMPULSIVE,  AND  INSTINCTIVE  ACTION. 

Will  Differentiated  from  Other  Mental  Powers.' — Will 
concerns  itself  with  action.  The  student  must  keep  that 
fact  before  him,  no  matter  how  complex  the  process  seems. 
As  we  proceed,  we  shall  see  that  the  will  is  restricted  to 
certain  kinds  of  action.  From  the  cradle  to  the  grave,  wjg 
are  never  passive  recipients  of  anything;  in  other  words, 
we  are  never  without  the  activity  of  will  in  the  broadest 

nf  the 


How  shall  we  distinguish  between  feeling  and  will,? 
There  is  no  more  precise  line  of  demarcation  than  exists 
between  the  Atlantic  Ocean  and  Davis  Strait.  We  saw, 
while  studying  sensation  and  perception,  that  the  various 
mental  powers  worked  in  such  unison  that  it  was  hard  to 
separate  them  exactly  from  each  other.  The  difficulty  is 
especially  great  in  separating  feeling  from  will,  because 
there  so  often  seems  to  be  no  break  between  the  two 
processes.  We  are  aided  in  marking  off  these  powers 
by  two  sets  of  experiences,  (i)  We  sometimes  experience 
feelings  from  which  no  marked  action  results.  They 
evaporate,  leaving  no  trace  in  the  world  of  action.  (2)  We 
feel  sorry  for  the  poor  or  the  sick,  and  leave  our  comfort- 
able homes,  perhaps  on  a  stormy  day,  to  go  to  help  them. 
It  is  plain  that  there  is  an  added  element  in  the  second 

299 


300  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

experience.  That  element  is  will,  which  was  not  obtru- 
sively present  in  the  first  experience.  The  germ  may  have 
been  there,  but  not  the  full  flower. 

Whenever  there  is  in  emotion  a  motor  element  which 
tends  to  go  out  in  action,  that  element  is  will.  When  I 
feel  angry  and  strike,  or  grateful  and  assist  some  one,  the 
striking  and  assisting  are  the  result  of  a  peculiar,  active 
power,  which  we  call  will.  In  some  emotions,  the  volun- 
tary element  may  be  so  small  as  to  baffle  detection,  but 
the  germ  is  there. 

We  can  also  roughly  differentiate  intellect  from  will  by 
two  sets  of  experiences:  (i)  When  a  loud  clap  of  thunder 
assaults  our  ears,  when  unsought  ideas  drift  into  our  minds, 
when  crape  on  a  door  suggests  death,  when  dream  images 
follow  each  other  unsought  and  undesired, — there  is  no 
marked  element  of  will  in  these  intellectual  manifesta- 
tions. (2)  When  we  innervate  our  auditory  nerves  to 
catch  some  slight  sound,  when  we  detain  an  idea  until 
its  desired  associate  is  recalled,  when  we  hold  two  ideas 
before  the  mind  to  compare  them,  —  we  are  using  will 
power.  Wherever  consciousness  displays  active  attention, 
there  is  will. 

Foundations  of  Will.  —  Since  the  will  has  to  do  with 
action,  we  must  first  familiarize  ourselves  with  the  poten- 
tial capabilities  of  will,  for  these  are  antecedent  to  the 
higher  type  of  volition.  The  more  developed  capacities 
of  will  are  furthered,  or  hampered,  by  causes  operative 
below  the  stream  of  consciousness.  Sometimes  we  do 
things  which  astonish  ourselves  as  much  as  other  people. 
Our  actions  are  conditioned  by  our  nervous  systems, 
which  have,  in  turn,  been  modified  by  all  the  past  ex- 
periences of  our  ancestry.  The  peculiar  structure  and 


THE   WILL.  3OI 

adaptability  of  the  nervous  system,  with  the  unconscious 
modification  which  experience  constantly  causes  it  to 
undergo,  exert  a  force  which  makes  itself  felt  in  every 
voluntary  decision.  Each  day's  experience  passes  into 
an  unconscious  product,  which  will  affect  our  decisions 
for  all  future  time. 

Different  Types  of  Action.  —  Approaching  the  will  first 
from  the  lower  side,  we  may  classify  actions  as  follows, 
and  then  proceed  to  treat  them  in  order :  — 

I.  Unconscious  refiex  action.     A  typical  example  of  this 
appears  in  the  unconscious  movement  of  a  sleeper's  hand, 
when  touched. 

II.  Conscious   refiex  action.      This   is   illustrated  by   a 
sensation  which  reaches  the  brain,  and  hurriedly  passes 
out   in  motor  action,  so  that   consciousness  is   merely   a 
passive  spectator.      The  winking  of  the  eye  due  to   the 
sensation  of  light  is  an  example. 

III.  Impulsive  action.     Here  a  hazy  idea  of  a  purpose 
toward   which  the  action    tends,    makes  its    appearance. 
In  the  two  preceding  cases  there  was  not   the    slightest 
idea  of  purpose  in  actions,  for  they  had  either  begun,  or 
were  completed,  before  consciousness  realized  their  aim  or 
object.     The  word  "impulse"  is  popularly  used  in  several 
different  ways.     We   here   mean   an   incentive   toward  a 
dimly  conscious  end.     In  impulse  there  is  no  such  con- 
sciousness of  power  to  choose  between  different  alterna- 
tives as  exists  in  higher  voluntary  action. 

IV.  Instinctive  action.    This  cannot  always  be  separated 
from  impulsive  action,  but  there  are  generally  some  quali- 
ties which  roughly  mark  off  the  two  kinds  of  action.     In- 
stinct gives  complex  action  toward  a  definite  end  which 
is  not  foreseen,  as  when  the  silkworm  spins  her  shroud. 


3O2  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

We  may  consider  impulse  as  less  complex  in  its  workingSj 
but  marked  by  more  consciousness  of  the  purpose  of  the 
action. 

V.  Deliberative  action.  We  have  now  come  to  the  high- 
est type  of  action,  but  a  type  which  could  never  have 
existed  except  for  the  preceding  types.  Here,  a  deliberat- 
ing will  chooses  between  alternative  courses  of  action. 
Shall  I  spend  this  money  for  books,  or  for  several  other 
things  ?  Shall  I  go  to  the  theater  to-night,  or  remain  at 
home  ?  In  deliberative  will  there  is  a  definite  idea  of  the 
object  sought  and  of  its  worth.  Thought  is  always  present 
to  weigh  in  the  balance  opposing  objects  and  actions. 

In  the  following  sections,  we  shall  look  at  action  from 
these  five  different  points  of  view. 


Unconscious  Reflex  Action. 

Complexity  and  Apparent  Purposiveness.  —  All  human 
action  is  conditioned  by  the  nervous  system.  Nervous 
cells  have  the  very  important  power  of  performing  uncon- 
scious actions  to  effect  a  definite  purpose.  If  the  hand  of 
a  sleeper  is  gently  pinched,  he  will  withdraw  it,  although 
he  knows  nothing  of  the  action.  The  sensory  nerve  will 
convey  to  the  spinal  cord  the  stimulus  caused  by  the 
pinching.  Nerve  cells  are  there  set  in  action,  which  flows 
out  by  a  motor  nerve,  and  the  hand  is  moved. 

Reflex  action  is,  strictly,  action  reflected  back.  The  sim- 
plest type  of  this  may  be  shown  in  the  case  of  a  rope  pass- 
ing around  a  pulley  and  attached  to  a  bucket.  The  pulley 
"  reflects  "  the  force  in  the  contrary  direction.  When  one 
side  of  the  rope  is  pulled  down,  the  bucket  rises.  The 
spinal  nervous  ganglion  here  corresponds  to  the  pulley, 
and  reflects  the  force  which  moves  the  muscle. 


THE  WILL.  303 

A  reflex  action  is  caused  in  two  ways,  (i)  by  an  ex- 
ternal stimulus  to  a  sensory  nerve,  or  (2)  by  the  organic 
condition  of  the  nerves  and  body.  Actions  of  this  second 
class  are  sometimes  called  spontaneous.  Here  we  have  a 
capacity  for  internally  originated  movement.  This  spon- 
taneity shows  a  marked  advance  over  ordinary  matter,  for 
a  stone  can  be  moved  only  from  without.  It  cannot  move 
itself  as  can  the  amoeba. 

It  is  sometimes  hard  to  believe  that  reflex  actions  are 
not  consciously  willed.  We  have  seen  that  a  decapitated 
frog  raises  its  hind  foot  to  brush  away  a  needle  or  a  drop 
of  acid  on  its  side  ;  if  the  leg  on  that  side  were  amputated, 
the  other  leg  would  display  purposive  endeavor  to  remove 
the  object.  It  is  difficult  to  appreciate  properly  the  com- 
plexity of  reflex  action.  Many  movements  which  seem  to 
exhibit  all  the  purposive  guidance  of  the  deliberative  will 
are  nothing  but  reflex  actions.  Acts  which  were  at  first 
consciously  willed,  often  sink  to  the  level  of  reflexes. 
Such  are  walking,  writing,  balancing,  and  many  other 
muscular  movements. 

Law  of  Central  Nervous  Action.  —  Whenever  a  sen- 
sory stimulus  is  transmitted  to  central  nerve  cells,  the 
force  is  never  lost,  but  it  tends  to  flow  out  again  in 
motor  action. 

If  water  flows  in  by  one  of  two  equal-sized  holes  at  the 
same  height,  on  opposite  sides  of  a  vertical  cylinder,  the 
water  must  flow  out  as  rapidly  as  it  flows  in,  after  it  has 
reached  a  given  height.  The  inflowing  stream  may  here 
be  likened  to  the  stimulus  transmitted  by  a  sensory  nerve ; 
the  cylinder  corresponds  to  the  central  nerve  cells,  and 
the  outlet  to  the  motor  nerves.  The  amount  of  water 
required  to  fill  the  cylinder  up  to  the  outlet  corresponds 


304  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 

to  the  inertia  of  nerve  matter,  to  overcome  which  in- 
ertia a  certain  amount  of  stimulus  is  expended  before 
motor  action  results.  By  central  nerve  cells,  we  here 
mean  ganglia  in  either  the  brain  or  the  spinal  cord. 
Whenever  a  sensory  stimulus  pours  into  nerve  cells,  there 
will  be  a  tendency  for  it  to  pass  out  in  motor  action, 
which  causes  muscular  movement.  This  law  holds  equally 
good  for  conscious  or  unconscious  stimuli.  If  water  flows 
into  a  lake,  there  must  be  an  adequate  outlet  or  the  lake 
must  rise.  No  force  of  any  IgnH  ia  ever  ^wallowed  up  and 
lost  without  procuring-  a^  Affect.  It  is  well  to  remember 
this  as  we  proceed  with  the  study  of  the  will.  We  shall 
find  that  our  higher  voluntary  actions  get  their  character 
from  this  inflowing  stream.  They  will  vary  as  it  has 
varied,  and  will  be  colored  by  it. 

Conscious  Reflex  Action. 

Difference  between  Conscious  and  Unconscious  Re- 
flexes.—  Reflex  action  in  its  simplest  form  is  unconscious. 
The  next  higher  stage  of  action  passes  through  the  lower 
fringe  of  consciousness,  so  to  speak,  but  is  in  no  wise 
swayed  or  deflected  by  consciousness.  The  student  will 
more  easily  understand  the  difference  between  conscious 
and  unconscious  reflexes,  by  the  aid  of  an  analogous  illus- 
tration. Half  a  barrel  hoop,  or  anything  else  which  forms 
a  semicircle,  may  be  used  to  represent  the  course  of  nerve 
action.  Holding  the  hoop  vertically,  immerse  it  completely 
in  a  cask  of  water,  which  may  represent  the  brain  or 
spinal  ganglia.  The  air  above  the  water  represents  con- 
sciousness. If  pressure  is  exerted  at  one  end  of  the  hoop, 
the  force  will  be  transmitted  through  the  arc  to  the  other 
end.  This  illustrates  unconscious  reflex  action.  Now 


THE   WILL. 


305 


raise  the  hoop  so  that  the  top  of  the  arc  is  above  the 
surface.  Force  applied  at  one  end  will  be  transmitted  to 
the  other.  This  may  serve  as  a  type  of  conscious  reflex 
action.  One  half  the  arc  to  which  pressure  is  applied  cor- 
responds to  a  sensory  stimulus ;  the  other  half,  to  motor 
action.  So  long  as  the  sensory  stimulus  passes  into  a 
motor  current  beneath  the  stream  of  consciousness,  the 
resulting  action  is  an  unconscious  reflex.  If  any  part  of 
the  action  passes  through  consciousness,  without  being 
affected  by  it,  we  have  a  conscious  reflex. 

The  student  will  not  have  a  clear  idea  of  these  different 
types  of  action,  unless  he  follows  Tyndall's  advice  and 
thinks  them  out  by  the  aid  of  images.  According  to  this 
view,  conscious  reflex  action,  if  changed  at  all,  is  imper- 
ceptibly changed  by  passing  through  the  lower  stratum  of 
consciousness.  Suppose,  however,  that  the  cask  is  filled 
to  the  brim  with  water  and  that  the  air  is  in  tense  motion 
because  of  a  strong  wind.  Let  the  semicircular  arc  be 
raised  some  distance  above  the  surface  of  the  water.  If 
pressure  is  applied  to  the  end  of  the  arc,  there  will  still 
be  transmission  to  the  other  end.  But  here  another  de- 
flecting force  is  felt,  that  of  a  strong  wind  blowing  against 
the  hoop.  This  typifies  the  force  exerted  by  conscious 
attention,  represented  by  the  strong  wind.  The  action 
can  no  longer  be  called  reflex ;  another  power  has  inter- 
vened to  change  the  direction  of  the  reflex  force.  This 
brings  us  to  the  highest  type  of  action. 

Unless  we  are  prepared  to  adopt  the  unscientific  hypoth- 
esis that  consciousness  exists  for  no  purpose,  we  can  see 
no  difficulty  in  supposing  that  consciousness  may  thus 
modify  action.  If  we  admit  that  things  exist  without  a 
purpose,  we  may  as  well  stop  study  in  any  science. 

We  have  here  brought  up  higher  voluntary  action  before 

HALLECK'S   PSYC.  —  2O 


306  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 

we  are  ready  to  proceed  with  its  consideration,  because  it 
is  wise  for  the  student  to  grasp  the  relations  between 
these  three  types  of  action. 

Illustrations  of  Conscious  Reflexes.  —  When  we  jump  or 
scream  because  a  loud  sound  is  suddenly  heard,  the  sensa- 
tion consciously  affects  the  brain,  and  passes  into  motor 
action,  with  consciousness  as  a  passive  spectator ;  or  if 
not  passive,  the  deflecting  force  of  consciousness  is  too 
small  to  be  measured.  If,  however,  conscious  attention 
was  already  on  the  alert,  the  scream  might  be  restrained, 
and  the  force  at  the  summit  of  the  arc  diffused  in  other 
directions. 

A  conscious  reflex  action  is  directed  by  no  idea  of  purpose. 
We  do  not  know  why  we  scream  or  jump  on  hearing  an  un- 
expected sound.  A  flash  of  light  registers  a  sensation  in  the 
brain,  and  we  wink  without  knowing  why.  Conscious  re- 
flexes are  generally  unvarying,  as  we  might  expect,  because 
their  direction  is  determined  by  nerve  mechanics  alone. 

Summary. — All  kinds  of  reflex  action  may  be  likened 
to  an  arc,  one  half  of  which  is  sensory,  the  other  half 
motor.  The  tendency  of  all  action  is  to  pass  through  the 
entire  arc.  At  the  summit  of  the  arc,  we  may  suppose 
nerve  cells  where  the  action  is  reflected.  This  summit 
lies  sometimes  above,  sometimes  below  the  level  of  con- 
sciousness, but  the  reflex  action  goes  on  its  course  un- 
disturbed by  it.  Many  actions  once  voluntary  become 
habitual  reflexes  with  advancing  life.  No  reflex  action 
shows  the  presence  of  will  in  its  higher  deliberative  form, 
although  purposive  reflexes  may  indicate  a  time  when  they 
were  the  slowly  formed  products  of  all  the  individual's 
intelligence  and  will  power. 


THE   WILL.  307 

Impulsive  Action. 

Meaning  of  the  Term.  —  When  the  same  word  is  used 
in  several  different  senses,  the  discussion  tends  to  become 
obscure,  because  of  changing  meaning.  We  must  at  the 
outset  note  the  different  meanings  attached  to  the  word 
"  impulse."  (i)  It  is  used,  in  a  physiological  sense,  to 
express  an  unstable  equilibrium  among  nerve  cells,  or  a 
tendency  to  pass  into  motor  action.  (2)  Impulse,  on  the 
mental  side,  is  a  condition  of  striving  toward  something 
not  clearly  represented  in  consciousness.  (3)  Impulse  is 
a  tendency  to  act  in  one  direction  and  in  one  only.  The 
tendency  is  due  to  peculiarities  of  both  nerve  and  mind. 
The  object  sought  for  in  impulse  is  not  clearly  foreshad- 
owed. One  is  impelled  to  escape  a  present  state  of  ten- 
sion, and  for  that  reason  he  acts  We  shall  use  "  impulse  " 
in  this  third  sense. 

When  impulse  grows  into  a  longing  for  a  definite  object, 
we  then  call  the  mental  state  desire.  When  this  state 
make  its  appearance,  the  will  has  passed  to  a  higher  stage 
of  development.  Impulse  knows  no  conflict  of  motives,  no 
deliberation.  The  tendency  is  all  in  one  direction.  The 
laws  of  some  nations  make  a  clear  distinction  between 
impulsive  and  deliberate  homicide. 

Varieties  of  Impulse. — While  human  impulses  are  as 
numerous  as  the  objects  which  bring  pleasure  or  cause 
pain,  a  very  rough  attempt  may  be  made  to  classify  them. 
The  most  primary  form  of  impulse  is  toward  pleasure  and 
away  from  pain.  As  experience  widens,  impulses  are  felt 
in  the  form  of  tendencies  to  go  out  toward  relatives,  com- 
panions, money ;  in  short,  impulses  incite  toward  any 
action  tending  to  gratify  the  man  physically,  intellectu- 


308  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

ally,  aesthetically,  or  morally,  and  away  from  actions  which 
tend  in  the  reverse  direction.  This  statement  has  approxi- 
mate truth,  or  the  race  would  perish. 

Some  psychologists  classify  impulses  according  to 
whether  they  are  due  (i)  to  sensation,  (2)  to  perception, 
or  (3)  to  reproduced  ideas  or  images.  The  impulse  to 
shrug  the  shoulders  and  draw  the  arms  close  to  the  body 
results  from  the  sensation  of  cold.  Turning  the  head  to 
watch  the  flight  of  a  bird  across  the  field  of  vision  is  an 
example  of  a  perception  impulse.  To  look  for  shelter  when 
clouds  threaten  rain,  and  before  rain  has  actually  fallen, 
is  an  imagination  impulse.  Here,  the  imagination  must 
first  represent  the  rain  as  actually  falling,  as  a  pictured 
sensation  impulse,  before  the  action  commences. 

Conditions  of  Impulse.  —  While  nervous  constitutions, 
tension,  and  excitation  furnish  the  physical  basis  of  im- 
pulse, we  may  say  with  Hoffding  :  "  The  psychological  con- 
dition of  the  impulse  is,  that  with  the  momentary  feeling 
and  sensation  should  be  combined  a  more  or  less  clear  idea 
of  something  which  may  augment  the  pleasure  or  diminish 
the  pain  of  the  moment." 

To  illustrate  the  above  statement,  we  may  suppose  a 
mother  hearing  a  noise  in  the  room  above  her.  A  sensa- 
tion is  caused,  directly  fitted  to  start  into  action  a  latent 
maternal  impulse.  This  noise  and  the  resulting  sensation 
are  followed  by  the  vague  idea  of  a  child  in  danger.  With- 
out stopping  to  deliberate,  or  to  think  for  one  second  of  an 
alternative  course  of  action,  she  rushes  upstairs  to  set  at 
rest  her  painful  apprehension,  or  to  escape  the  torment  of 
uncertainty.  Frequently  the  idea  connected  with  impulse 
is  much  more  vague  than  this.  We  are  sometimes  haunted 
with  a  painful  sense  of  having  forgotten  something,  we 


THE   WILL.  309 

cannot  tell  what,  and  we  impulsively  return  to  find  out, 
and  thus  rid  ourselves  of  such  an  uncomfortable  state  of 
consciousness. 

Expressed  briefly,  the  conditions  of  impulse  are  (i)  cer- 
tain nervous  and  mental  tendencies,  natural  or  acquired, 
and  (2)  one  idea  more  or  less  vague,  suggesting  an  action 
fitted  to  gratify  these  tendencies. 

The  fact  that  impulse  has  only  one  idea,  allowing  no 
deliberation,  must  be  noted.  If  the  mother  had  stopped 
to  reflect  on  the  cause  of  the  noise,  to  wonder  whether  it 
was  due  to  a  burglar  or  a  child,  to  deliberate  whether  it 
would  be  better  for  her  to  go  upstairs  or  to  send  some  one 
else,  —  even  if  she  had  finally  gone  herself,  —  the  action 
would  not  have  been  due  to  impulse,  but  to  a  deliberative 
act  of  will,  where  there  was  alternative  choice  between 
different  actions  suggested  by  different  ideas  clearly  repre- 
sented to  consciousness. 

Instinctive  Action. 

Instinctive  Action  is  Complex  and  Purposive  without 
Foresight  of  End.  —  Whenever  a  conscious  sensation,  due 
either  to  external  or  internal  stimuli,  results  in  purposive 
action  toward  a  given  end  which  is  not  foreseen,  that 
action  is  instinctive.  A  young  stork  left  alone  in  a  north- 
ern latitude  would  migrate  southward  on  the  approach  of 
autumn.  Sensations  of  cold  would  furnish  the  stimuli 
prompting  instinctive  action.  If  the  bird  had  never  been 
south  before,  it  could  have  no  idea  of  the  purpose  of  its 
flight,  although  it  would  be  action  directed  toward  an  intel- 
ligent end.  Certain  sensations  of  organic  origin  prompt 
the  young  bird  to  build  its  first  nest.  This  bird  has 
never  been  taught,  nor  has  it  had  any  experience  of,  nest- 


310  PSYCHOLOGY  AND  PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

building.  •  Yet  the  first  nest  is  constructed  on  the  same 
principles  and  fashioned  as  well  as  any  of  its  successors. 
All  the  actions  —  the  spreading  of  the  wings  in  flight, 
the  gathering  of  grass,  straw  and  twigs,  the  moistening  of 
the  bill  for  making  mud  —  are  a  series  of  complex  move- 
ments blindly  directed  toward  an  intelligent  end. 

Instinctive  Compared  with  Reflex  Actions.  —  Instinct  has 
much  in  common  with  reflex  action.  Whenever  certain 
stimuli  are  present,  definite  unvarying  actions  tend  to  re- 
sult in  both  cases.  We  saw  that  a  sensory  stimulus  on 
the  side  of  a  decapitated  frog  was  followed  by  a  definite 
action  suited  to  remove  the  cause.  When  the  caterpillar 
feels  certain  stimuli,  it  mechanically  begins  to  weave  a 
shroud  in  a  blind,  reflex  way,  and  the  action  is  continued 
so  long  as  the  stimuli  are  operative.  If  a  stork  is  con- 
fined in  a  cage  with  iron  bars,  so  strong  as  to  shut  off 
hope  of  escape,  when  the  stimulus  of  autumnal  cold  affects 
the  bird,  it  will  repeatedly  dash  its  breast  against  the  bars 
until  it  is  bloody.  The  stimulus  of  cold  here  tends  to 
excite  reflex  action.  Darwin  says  that  a  young  salmon 
kept  in  a  tub  of  water  will  often  leap  out  at  a  certain  time, 
and  thus  commit  unintentional  suicide.  Here,  a  certain 
stimulus  caused  the  reflex  muscular  act  of  jumping.  These 
facts  have  led  some  psychologists,  like  Spencer,  to  call 
instinct  a  compound  reflex. 

The  difference  in  the  two  types  of  action  is,  in  some 
instances,  very  marked,  (i)  There  is  a  difference  in  com- 
plexity. A  reflex  movement  is  simpler  and  does  not 
generally  involve  the  whole  body  in  action.  A  limb  may 
be  moved  ;  an  eye  winked ;  one  muscle  contracted.  When 
a  bird  builds  her  nest,  the  instinctive  tendency  results  in 
movements  of  wings  spread  in  flight,  ocular  search  for 


THE   WILL.  3H 

materials,  alighting,  seizing  them  with  either  bill  or  claw, 
carrying  them  to  the  proper  place,  and  fixing  them  in 
position.  Here  the  instinctive  movements  constantly 
change,  and  the  one  is  not  a  mere  repetition  of  the 
other. 

(2)  There  is  a  difference  in  the  remoteness  of  the  end 
to  be  gained.    A  reflex  act  is  usually  directed  toward  some 
immediate  purpose ;  but  an  ant  will  hoard  grain  for  the 
winter,  and  the  caterpillar  provide  for  a  butterfly  existence. 

(3)  There  is  a  wider,  if  unconscious,  intelligence  in  in- 
stinctive acts.    Bees  construct  larger  cells  for  young  queen 
bees  and  feed  the  royal  larvae  with  more  and  richer  food, 
although  there  is  originally  no  difference  between  them  and 
the  larvae  of  the  workers.     Simple  reflex  tendencies  would 
result  in  making  all  cells  the  same  to  start  with,  and  in 
feeding  all  the  young  in  the  same  way.     Hence,  some  call 
all  instincts  examples   of  "  lapsed  intelligence "  ;  that  is, 
the  actions  were  at  first  the  result  of  a  highly  voluntary 
process,  but  from  continuous  repetition  they  became  un- 
consciously habitual. 

(4)  Within  a  given  time,  instinct   is   subject   to   more 
change  than  are  reflexes.      In  the  South  Sea  Islands  a 
species  of  bird  accustomed  to  build  nests  on  the  ground, 
placed  them  in  trees  after  cats  were  introduced.    Chickens 
will   at  first   instinctively   follow  the   call   of   a  hen,  but 
if  they  are   kept  away  from  her  for  a  week,  her  cluck- 
ing will  not  react  on  them  in  the  same  way,  and  they  will 
refuse  to  follow  her.     This  change  leading  to  the  selection 
of  an  alternative  course  of  action,  takes  us  a  step  forward 
toward  the  higher  exercise  of  will. 

(5)  Instinctive  action  is  begun  under  the  prompting  of 
richer  conscious  feeling,  while  there  is  generally  no  change 
in  conscious  experience  going  before  a  reflex  action,  but 


312  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

only  as  a  resultant  of  it.  The  sensation  of  cold  causes 
the  stork  to  feel  consciously  miserable  before  it  migrates. 
Prior  to  instinctive  action,  there  is  probably  always  a 
vague  conscious  feeling  of  being  out  of  harmony  with 
the  surroundings. 

/"^  x.  /"  -\ 

'   Instinctive  Compared  witlj  Impulsive  Actions.  —  (i)  In- 

(f •^-^-^s" -^^\ff^  \l  ") 

stinct  differs  from  impulse  m  having  no  idea  of  the  end 
of  the  action.     When  the  young  salmon  leaped  out  of  thev 
tub,  there  was  no  idea  of  purpose  in  the  action.     We  have 
seen  that  impulse  is  marked  by  the  presence  of  a  more  or 
less  vague  idea  of  the  object  of  the  action. 

(2)  Instinct  is  more  complex  than  impulse.    An  impulse 
is  preceded   by  one   idea,  and   usually  discharges  swiftly 
along  one  given  line,  disregarding  any  alternative  action. 
The  beaver  may  make  a  hundred  preliminary  movements 
before  he  actually  begins  the  construction  of  his  dam. 

(3)  Instinct   is   more   remote   in   aim.      Impulse   tends 
toward   immediate   gratification   and   away   from   present 
pain.      Instinct  urges  the  bee   to   labor   hard   to   gather 
honey  against  the  time  when  the  flowers  will  be  gone* 

(4)  Impulses  vary  much  with  individuals,  while  instincts 
are  common  to  a  species.     For  example,   some  persons 
have  a   strong  impulsive  tendency  toward  sensual  gratifi- 
cation, the  pleasures  of  the  table,  or  strong  drink.     Others, 
are  impelled  toward   intellectual  pleasure;  when  a  book 
of  travel,  biography,  or  science  is  mentioned,  they  imme- 
diately have  an  impulse  to  find  out  the  facts  which  the 
work  contains.     All  the  duck  tribe  instinctively  love  the 
water.     Instinct  does  not  admit  of  individual  variation  on 
a  large  scale. 

On  the  other  hand,  instinct  and  impulse  have  some  fac- 
tors  in   common,     (i)  Neither  action  is  the  product  of 


THE   WILL.  313 

deliberation.  It  never  occurs  to  the  swallow  to  weigh  the 
reasons  between  staying  north  all  winter  and  flying  south. 
Impulsive  action  knows  no  alternative  and  no  deliberation. 
It  may  be  objected  that  impulse  does  not  always  flow  out 
in  action,  that  we  sometimes  deliberate  whether  it  is  better 
to  act  or  to  refrain  from  acting,  that  we  image  beforehand 
the  consequences  of  a  rash  action  and  thus  restrain  it. 
This  is  true,  but  such  actions  are  not  impulsive ;  they  are 
the  products  of  the  highest  form  of  deliberative  will.  An 
impulsive  action  may  in  time  come  to  be  deliberately  willed, 
just  as  the  caterpillar  may  take  on  the  higher  form  of  the 
butterfly.  All  mental  powers  illustrate  growth  toward 
complexity. 

(2)  After  instinctive  action  has  been  once  performed,  a 
certain  amount  of  foresight  of  the  end  must  remain  in 
memory.  The  hen  that  has  once  kept  eggs  warm  until 
they  have  hatched,  must  have  a  certain  idea  of  the  result 
of  the  action  when  she  again  sits.  By  the  law  of  conti- 
guity, the  association  would  run  straight  ahead  to  the 
chickens.  Hence,  instinct  is  like  impulse  after  a  certain 
amount  of  foresight  has  been  gained  in  connection  with 
any  action.  This  cannot,  however,  be  said  of  the  first 
performance  of  any  instinctive  action,  nor  can  it  ever  be 
maintained  in  such  cases  as  when  the  animal  dies  or 
changes  its  form  after  an  instinctive  act.  The  silkworm 
never  has  an  idea  of  the  end  in  weaving  its  shroud. 

Human  Instincts.  —  Human  beings  are  especially  rich 
in  potential  or  germinal  instinctive  capacity,  but  this  for 
the  most  part  needs  to  be  developed  by  education  and 
experience.  The  infant  instinctively  reaches  out  his  hand 
toward  things,  grasps  them,  or  turns  his  head  toward 
them.  In  short,  a  child  has  an  indefinite  number  of 


314  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC 

instinctive  movements,  but  he  cannot  correlate"  the 
walking  or  swimming  without  experience  or  training. 

A  human  mother  does  not  need  to  be  taught  to  love  and 
shield  her  child  ;  but  human  beings  have  comparatively  fen 
fully  developed  instincts  because  reason  constantly  sug- 
gests new  acts  to  meet  varying  emergencies.  When 
principle  of  change  is  introduced,  an  instinctive  act  is  no 
longer  certain,  and  it  is  not  always  desirable.  When  the 
climate  changed  in  various  parts  of  the  world,  the  strong- 
est animals  frequently  perished,  as  is  shown  by  their  fossil 
remains.  Man  possessed  the  power  of  progressive  reason- 
ing, which  enabled  him  to  change  his  instinctive  acts  to 
meet  changing  exigencies.  Human  actions  are  to-day  in- 
stinctive ones,  broken  up  into  parts  and  then  recombined 
under  the  laws  of  imagination,  thought,  and  will,  to  meet 
the  constantly  varying  requirements  of  civilized  life. 

Summary  of  the  Chief  Features  of  Instinctive  Actions.  — 

(1)  They  are  prompted  by  intra-  or  extra-organic  stimuli. 

(2)  The  resulting  movements  seem  intelligent,  because  they 
have  a  direction  that  shows  a  plan.      (3)  They  resemble 
reflexes  in   being  the   unvarying   result   of  certain    stim- 
uK.     (4)  They  are  unlike  reflexes,  in  being  :  (a)  more  com- 
plex, (b)  more  remote  in  aim,  (c}  more  broadly  purposeful, 
(d}  more  subject  to  modification  or  change,  (<?)  preceded  by 
more  conscious  feeling,  (/)  more  rich  in  furnishing  com- 
plex acts  which  can  afterwards  be  separated  and  combined 
by  deliberative  will.     (5)  They  agree  with  impulses :  (a)  in 
lack  of  deliberation,  (b)  in  foresight  of  end  after  the  same 
instinctive  acts  have  been  repeated.     (6)  They  differ  from 
impulses :  (a)  in  having  in  their  first  performance  no  idea 
of  the  end  of  the  action ;  (6)  in  being  less  simple  and  in 
embracing  more  acts  to  achieve  the  given  end ;  (c)  in  the 


THE   WILL.  315 

promptings  lasting  for  a  longer  time  ;  (d)  in  being  more 
uniform  in  regard  to  the  class.  (7)  Complex  instinctive 
acts,  in  the  case  of  human  beings,  have  been  (a)  split  up 
into  simpler  parts,  and  (b)  recombined  into  new  forms  to 
meet  the  changing  needs  of  progressive 


HIGHER  DELIBERATIVE  ACTION. 

The  Factors.  —  Higher  voluntary  processes  are  marked 
off  from  actions  of  a  lower  order  :  (i)  by  a  distinct  idea  of 
the  end  of  the  actiorj,  (2)  by  desire,  (3)  by  consciousness 
•of  alternatives  which  afford  an  opportunity  for  choice, 
(4)  by  deliberation,  (5)  by  a  feeling  of  voluntary  effort, 
or  by  sensations  due  to  muscular  movement  as  a  resultant 
of  such  effort. 

Voluntary  Attention.  —  The  first  step  toward  the  devel- 
opment of  will  lies  in  the  exercise  of  attention.  There  is 
a  sense  of  conscious  effort  in  voluntary  attention.  This 
suffices  to  mark  it  off  from  the  involuntary  type.  When 
there  is  a  flash  of  lightning,  we  attend  involuntarily  ; 
when  we  look  into  a  microscope  to  discriminate  between 
the  atoms  seen  floating  there,  we  put  voluntary  effort  into 
our  attention. 

Ideas  grow  in  distinctness  and  in  motor  power  as  we 
attend  to  them.  If  we  take  two  ideas  of  the  same  inten- 
sity and  center  the  attention  upon  one,  we  shall  notice 
how  much  it  grows  in  power.  Take  the  sensations  from 
two  aches  in  the  body  and  fix  attention  upon  the  one. 
That  idea  will  grow  in  motor  power  until  we  may  act  in 
a  direction  supposed  to  relieve  that  special  pain,  while  the 
other  is  comparatively  neglected.  If  we,  at  the  start,  want 
several  things  in  about  an  equal  degree,  whether  a  bicycle, 


x^n&Q  -co  ^ 


PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 


a  typewriter,  or  a  cyclopedia,  we  shall  end  by  wanting  that 
the  most  on  which  our  attention  has  been  most  strongly 
centered.  The  bicycle  idea  may  thus  gain  more  motor 
power  than  either  of  the  other  two ;  or,  if  we  keep  think- 
ing how  useful  a  cyclopedia  would  be,  action  may  tend  in 
that  direction. 

/""It  is  a  matter  of  dispute  whether  will  power  is  anything 
more  than  voluntary  attention  ;  whether  all  that  is  neces- 
sary in  voluntary  effort  has  not  been  achieved,  when  the 
mind  has  been  kept  filled  with  the  idea,  until  action  results 
as  a  natural  consequence.  There  is  no  dispute  over  the 
fact  that  such  attention  is  the  most  important  element 
in  will.  In  order  to  act  in  the  direction  of  one  idea  in 
preference  to  another,  we  must  dismiss  the  one  and  volun- 
tarily attend  to  the  other.  The  motor  force  thus  devel- 
oped in  connection  with  the  dominant  idea  lies  at  the 
foundation  of  every  higher  act  of  will. 

Different  Types  of  Higher  Voluntary  Movement. — 
I.  There  is  movement  started  by  an  immediate  sensation. 
When  we  see  a  hornet  or  an  angry  bull  coming  toward  us, 
when  we  touch  something  clammy  in  the  dark,  we  at  once 
resort  to  varied  voluntary  movements,  which  our  reason 
tells  us  best  fit  the  exigencies  of  the  situation.  In  the 
case  of  the  hornet,  we  may  endeavor  to  kill  it  with  a  book, 
or  we  may  quietly  depart.  To  escape  the  bull,  we  may 
climb  a  fence  or  a  tree,  or  seek  shelter  in  a  building.  We 
may  get  a  light,  to  discover  what  object  felt  so  clammy. 
The  point  is,  that  each  one  of  these  movements  had  its 
origin  in  an  immediate  sensation. 

II.  Movements  are  also  initiated  by  represented  ideas. 
We  are  sitting  quietly  in  a  chair,  when  we  think  of  a  book 
in  the  next  room.  We  rise  and  get  the  book.  Were  it 


THE   WILL.  317 

not  for  the  presence  of  the  idea  of  the  book,  our  action 
could  never  take  that  special  direction.  The  greater 
variety  of  ideas  a  man  has,  the  more  numerous  are  the 
courses  of  action  open  to  him.  If  an  intelligent  physician 
has  an  idea  of  twenty-five  different  methods  of  treating 
rheumatism,  he  may  vary  his  treatment- accordingly,  and 
may  succeed  where  a  less  skilled  doctor  would  fail.  If  a 
business  man  has  a  dozen  ideas  to  fit  a  given  emergency, 
he  may  act  in  any  of  those  directions ;  if  he  has  but  one 
idea,  he  can  act  but  in  one  direction.  Ideas  must  precede 
to  open  a  path  for  intelligent  action.  Before  Columbus 
sailed,  he  had  an  idea  of  land  beyond  the  seas.  When 
discussing  the  imagination,  we  saw  that  even  a  plumber 
must  have  an  idea  of  how  to  make  a  short  cut  for  his  pipe, 
before  he  can  do  it. 

Motor  Aspect  of  Ideas.  —  An  idea  always  has  a  motor 
element,  however  obscure;  in  other  words,  an  idea  is 
partially  incipient  motor  action.  We  have  already  seen 
that  when  a  sensory  nerve  transmits  excitement  to  the 
brain,  there  is  a  tendency  to  a  reflex  discharge  along  a 
motor  nerve.  Whenever  a  definite  idea  is  formed,  there 
is  also  a  tendency  toward  action.  This  is  most  plainly 
seen  in  those  ideas  which  suggest  some  particular  move- 
ment. The  idea  of  handshaking  often  goes  out  in  action 
in  the  case  of  a  well-bred  person,  when  it  is  improper  for 
him  to  take  the  initiative.  k 

A  motor  idea,  unless  restrained,  tends  to  go  out  immedi- 
ately in  definite  action.  A  person  was  asked  to  pass  the 
pepper  caster.  The  motor  idea  caused  an  immediate  re- 
sponse, although  he  knew  that  the  top  would  come  off. 
The  caster  was  shaken  and  the  top  came  off,  ruining  the 
food.  The  request  for  the  pepper  affected  consciousness, 


318  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 

raising  a  motor  idea  which  led  to  conscious  reflex  action. 
All  that  deliberation  could  have  done  in  this  instance 
would  have  been  to  restrain  the  passage  of  the  motor  ele- 
ment into  that  form  of  action. 

Muscle  Reading.  —  Every  mental  state  tends  to  express 
itself  in  the  appropriate  habitual  action.  This  is  the  foun- 
dation truth  for  the  art  of  muscle  reading.  A  skillful  inter- 
preter of  muscular  contraction  will  tell  where  an  article  is 
hid,  or  whether  he  is  about  to  touch  the  right  article  or  not, 
by  feeling  the  muscles  of  the  person  taken  along  in  the 
search.  The  mental  state  of  the  most  honest  person  tends 
to  mirror  itself  in  the  muscles.  The  idea,  we  have  seen,  is 
the  mind  in  action,  and  a  portion  of  this  action  is  trans- 
mitted along  the  motor  nerves.  If  we  think  of  the  edible 
qualities  of  a  peach  or  of  custard,  there  is  a  tendency 
toward  incipient  muscular  contraction  in  the  jaws  and 
toward  an  increased  flow  of  saliva.  If  we  project  the 
distinct  image  of  a  giant,  there  is  either  a  tendency  toward 
opening  the  eyes  wider,  or  toward  movement  in  the  muscles 
of  the  eyes  if  closed. 

Suggestion.  —  Action  following  an  idea  thrown  into  the 
mind,  as  it  were,  from  an  external  source,  is  said  to  be  clue 
to  suggestion.  A  soldier  was  carrying  his  dinner  to  the 
barracks,  when  some  one  yelled  "  Attention ! "  at  him. 
This  word  developed  motor  ideas  which  immediately  passed 
into  the  actions  usual  when  such  a  command  was  given. 
Down  came  the  soldier's  hands,  and  he  dropped  his  dinner. 
Every  idea  suggested  to  us  tends  to  pass  into  action.  The 
reason  why  action  does  not  follow  every  idea,  is  because 
the  mind  leaps  ahead,  foresees  the  consequences,  and 
restrains  the  movement.  The  effects  of  ideas  are  similar 


THE    WILL.  319 

to  those  of  a  stone  thrown  into  a  lake.  The  stone  does 
not  disappear  without  leaving  an  effect  behind.  The  rip- 
ples spread  in  all  directions  from  it.  In  the  same  way, 
motor  waves  flow  out  from  ideas. 

Hypnotism  has  taught  us  much  about  the  motor  power 
of  suggested  ideas.  The  subject  will  perform  almost  any 
possible  action  that  is  merely  suggested  to  him.  He  will 
dance,  sing,  crawl  on  all  fours,  act  the  part  of  a  king,  a 
clown,  of  a  barber ;  in  short,  his  acts  will  vary  in  conform- 
ity to  the  ideas  suggested  by  the  operator.  Were  it  not 
for  the  certainty  of  these  facts,  one  would  naturally  believe 
it  impossible  for  mere  ideas  to  have  such  motor  force. 
Such  experiments  have  also  shown  that  the  field  of  deliber- 
ative will  is  much  narrower  than  was  formerly  supposed. 

Although  in  hypnotism  the  term  "suggestion"  is  gen- 
erally used  of  an  idea  implanted  from  without,  in  normal 
association  we  say  that  one  idea  suggests  another.  When 
no  one  is  speaking  to  us,  we  may  notice  a  stream  of 
ideas  flowing  through  our  minds.  One  idea  could  never 
suggest  another  by  the  law  of  contiguity,  were  there  not 
a  motor  force  in  the  process.  To  this  force  is  due  the 
appearance  of  the  associated  idea. 

Imitative  Action.  —  When  we  watch  a  rope  walker, 
our  bodies  tend  to  sway  back  and  forth  in  imitation. 
Children  imitate  even  the  unpleasant  peculiarities  of  those 
around  them.  The  law  of  suggestion  shows  the  reason  for 
this.  The  movement  suggests  the  correlated  motor  idea, 
which  naturally  tends  to  flow  out  in  the  proper  action.  A 
very  low  stage  of  consciousness  suffices  for  the  develop- 
ment of  such  an  idea — such  consciousness  as  we  find  in 
the  somnambulist,  a  hypnotic  subject,  or  an  idiot.  The 
capacity  for  imitation  in  the  lower  stages  of  mental  life  is 


32O  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 

especially  important,  for  the  child  thus  quickly  acquires 
manifold  movements.  Even  if  the  motor  idea  thus  devel- 
oped flows  out  only  in  conscious  reflexes,  this  has  its  last- 
ing results  in  nerve  modification.  Imitative  movements, 
preceded  by  desire  and  deliberative  determination  to  choose 
and  adapt  means  to  end,  as  in  the  case  of  a  sculptor,  are  of 
«a  higher  order. 

Utility  of  Motor  Ideas  in  Training.  —  Before  one  can  de- 
liberate concerning  different  acts,  he  must  foresee  that 
motor  ideas,  unless  inhibited,  invariably  go  out  in  the 
proper  responsive  actions.  If  this  were  not  the  case,  not 
knowing  whither  the  ideas  tend,  he  might  as  well  center 
his  attention  upon  one  motor  idea  as  another.  That  was 
a  good  soldier  who  dropped  his  rations  at  the  command, 
"Attention."  He  had  been  well  drilled.  We  feel  that  we 
can  trust  people  whose  motor  response  to  the  right  has 
always  been  unerring.  Sully  says  :  "  In  training  a  dog  or 
a  child  to  obey,  the  object  is  to  induce  such  a  close  connec- 
tion between  the  rousing  sign  and  the  motor  reaction  that 
the  latter  shall  follow  certainly  and  immediately." 

On  the  other  hand,  there  needs  to  be  cultivated  the 
power  of  restraining  customary  motor  action.  The  soldier 
would  have  been  a  better  one,  had  his  power  of  inhibition 
been  as  quick  as  his  obedience;  but  a  joking  command  was 
so  unusual  in  his  world,  that  he  had  heretofore  had  no 
occasion  to  delay  in  carrying  out  a  command. 

In  connection  with  the  motor  idea  present  in  emotion, 
explosive  action  often  develops,  causing  the  person  to 
appear  foolish  or  to  disgrace  himself. 

Desire. — At  the  threshold  of  each  higher  act  of  will 
stands  desire.  This  is  a  complex  mental  state,  and  it  con- 


THE  WILL.  321 

tains  the  elements  of  both  emotion  and  will.  In  every 
state  of  desire  there  is  (i)  conscious  feeling,  and  (2)  con- 
scious tension  which  easily  passes  into  action. 

All  feeling  tends  to  excite  desire.  Sometimes  desire 
gives  rise  to  intense  feeling.  In  one  aspect,  desire  is 
feeling  ;  in  another,  desire  is  will  or  an  active  tension 
which  passes  imperceptibly  into  will.  Desire  has  for  its 
object  something  which  will  bring  pleasure  or  get  rid  of 
pain,  immediate  or  remote,  for  the  individual  or  for  some 
one  in  whom  he  is  interested.  Aversion,  or  a  striving 
away  from  something,  is  merely  the  negative  aspect  of 
desire. 

Desire  Shows  Progress  in  Intelligence.  —  We  have  seen 
that  impulse  is  indefinite  ;  instinct,  blind.  When  we  come 
to  desire,  properly  so  called,  there  must  be  a  definite  idea. 
If  a  person  says,  "  I  desire,"  the  question  very  naturally  is, 
"  What  ?  Do  you  desire  a  horse,  a  bicycle,  a  boat,  a  book, 
a  glass  of  lemonade?"  Unless  there  is  a  definite  answer 
to  the  question,  desire  is  not  the  term  to  apply  to  that 
mental  state.  If  he  wants  a  bicycle,  he  must  have  an  idea 
of  what  a  bicycle  is  before  he  can  know  whether  he  really 
desires  it  or  not.  If  a  person  asks  another  at  dinner  if  he 
would  like  some  mulligatawny,  the  reply  may  be,  "I  do 
not  know  whether  I  desire  any  or  not,  for  I  do  not  know 
what  it  is." 

The  Antecedent  to  Desire.  —  A  representative  image  of 
the  thing  desired  is  the  necessary  antecedent  to  desire. 
A  child  calls  for  a  peach.  If  the  child  had  never  seen  nor 
heard  of  peaches,  he  could  have  no  desire  for  them.  If  he 
reached  for  a  peach  when  first  seen,  the  movement  would 
be  reflex,  instinctive,  or  impulsive.  Not  until  a  repre- 
HALLECK'S  PSYC. — 21 


322  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

sentative  idea  of  the  peach  comes  to  the  child's  mind 
does  desire  arise.  It  has  often  been  said  that  where  there 
is  no  knowledge  there  can  be  no  desire,  and  that  desires 
increase  as  knowledge  widens.  A  child  sees  a  new  toy 
and  wants  it.  A  man  notices  some  improvements  about 
his  neighbor's  house  and  wishes  them.  One  nation  finds 
out  that  another  has  a  war  ship  of  a  superior  model,  and 
straightway  desires  something  as  good  or  better.  A 
scholar  sees  a  new  cyclopedia  or  work  of  reference,  and 
desire  for  it  arises.  A  person  returns  and  tells  his 
friends  how  delightful  a  foreign  trip  is.  Their  desires 
for  travel  increase.  Knowledge  gives  birth  to  desire, 
and  desire  points  out  a  path  for  wilL 

Nature  of  the  Idea  Causing  Desire. — All  objects,  or 
ideas  derived  from  them,  do  not  excite  desire  in  an  equal 
degree,  for  all  do  not  raise  the  same  amount  of  feeling. 
Speaking  broadly,  we  may  say  that  desire  is  proportional 
to  the  amount  of  pleasure  or  pain  represented  with  the 
idea.  A  man  would  risk  himself  far  more  to  save  his 
drowning  child  than  to  save  a  dog,  because  the  welfare  of 
the  child  constitutes  a  much  greater  part  of  the  pleasure 
of  the  father's  life.  Similarly  a  man  would  exert  himself 
more  to  save  ten  thousand  dollars  than  ten  dollars,  because 
the  larger  sum  is  suggestive  of  more  pleasure.  Hence  w<* 
may  also  say  that  action  is  proportional  to  desire.  A  man 
would  make  more  strenuous  efforts  to  save  a  limb  from 
amputation  than  a  finger  nail. 

Desire  is  not  always  proportional  to  the  idea  of  one's 
own  selfish  pleasure.  Many  persons,  after  forming  an  idea 
of  the  vast  amount  of  earthly  distress,  desire  to  relieve 
it ;  and  the  desire  goes  out  in  action,  as  the  benevolent 
societies  in  every  city  testify.  Here,  the  individual  pleas- 


THE   WILL.  323 

ure  is  none  the  less  real,  but  it  is  secondary,  coming  from 
the  pleasure  of  others. 

The  idea  of  the  near  often  raises  a  stronger  desire 
than  the  remote.  A  child  frequently  prefers  a  thing 
immediately,  if  it  is  only  one  tenth  as  good  as  some- 
thing he  might  have  a  year  hence.  A  student  often 
desires  more  the  leisure  of  to-day  than  the  success  of  fu- 
ture years.  Though  admonished  to  study,  he  wastes  his 
time  and  thus  loses  incomparably  greater  future  pleasure 
when  he  is  tossed  to  the  rear  in  the  struggle  for  existence. 
Persons  waste  their  money  on  lottery  tickets,,  because 
they  promise  to  bring  a  fortune  more  quickly  than  hard 
work.  S*£\ 


Deliberation  the  Intellectual  Factor  in  Will.  —  Let  us 
take  a  rational  human  action  and  see  how  much  delibera- 
tion may  be  involved  in  it.  I  wish  to  leave  the  city  dur- 
ing the  heated  term.  Before  I  act,  I  not  only  have  the 
desire  to  go,  but  I  must  know  where  to  go.  I  find  out 
the  location,  the  merits,  and  the  defects  of  a  number  of 
summer  resorts.  Then  I  proceed  to  deliberate.  A  has 
surf  bathing ;  B  is  on  a  mountain  and  has  fine  tonic  air ; 
C  is  near  by  and  some  of  my  friends  are  going  there,  but 
the  mosquitoes  are  annoying  and  will  not  allow  one  to 
take  a  walk  with  any  comfort;  D  has  fine  air  and  no 
mosquitoes,  but  the  place  is  too  fashionable  and  too  much 
given  to  dress ;  E  suits  for  all  reasons,  save  that  it  is  too 
expensive;  F  would  answer,  but  it  is  too  far  off.  I  then 
take  into  my  deliberations  the  possibility  of  staying  all 
summer  in  the  city.  Three  hot  days  come.  The  nights 
are  so  warm  that  one  cannot  sleep.  I  then  continue  my 
deliberations  about  the  summer  resorts. 

Will  is  necessarily  present  in  its  most  important  aspect 


324  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   rbYCHIC   CULTURE. 

m  every  act  of  deliberation.  I  balance  one  idea  against 
another.  By  will  power  I  hold  my  attention  undivided 
upon  one  idea;  then  I  dismiss  it,  and  turn  my  attention 
to  another.  I  consider  the  surf  bathing  of  A,  the  moun- 
tain air  of  B,  the  annoyances  at  C,  the  fashion  at  D,  the 
expense  at  E,  the  distance  to  F. 

^^Deliberation  is  a  process  of  both  intellect  and  will ;  of 
intellect  to  represent  ideas  and  compare  them,  and  of 
will  to  hold  the  ideas  before  the  attention  or  to  dismiss 
them  and  make  room  for  others.  In  the  deliberative! 
process,  »the  whole  man  makes  himself  felt;  all  his  past 
experiences  count.  In  impulsive  action,  the  momentary! 
state  triumphs. 

Choice,  or  Decision.  —  With  reference  to  the  summer 
resort,  deliberation  does  not  end  the  voluntary  process ; 
the  act  of  will  is  yet  incomplete.  Something  more  is 
necessary  than  (i)  a  desire  to  go,  and  (2)  deliberation 
about  a  large  number  of  resorts.  My  next  voluntary  step 
is  to*  choose  among  the  many  resorts  concerning  which 
I  have  been  deliberating,  and  to  decide  to  go  to  one.  G 
satisfies  my  reason,  for  the  place  has  sailing  and  fish- 
ing, good  walks,  few  mosquitoes,  and  moderate  charges. 
I  then  cut  short  deliberation  and  decide  to  go  to  G. 
Decision  is  a  termination  of  the  process  of  deliberation. 
Decision  always  requires  an  effort  of  the  will.  In  fact, 
decision  is  often  the  hardest  part  of  the  voluntary  pro- 
cess. We  frequently  complain  that  we  cannot  make  up 
our  minds,  and  try  to  get  others  to  decide  for  us. 

Some  persons  decide  like  a  flash,  without  much  delib- 
eration or  effort.  They  often  find  themselves  in  hot 
water,  and  the  effort  comes  in  trying  to  escape.  It  is 
better  to  use  more  energy  in  deliberating  and  deciding 


THE  WILL.  325 

than  in  endeavoring  to  escape  the  consequences  of  rash- 
ness. Young  people  have  frequently  ruined  their  pros- 
pects for  life,  because  of  one  decision  without  proper 
deliberation. 

There  are  always  at  least  two  alternatives  in  any 
higher  line  of  conduct,  although  only  one  may  be  rational. 
Hamlet  found  himself  confronted  with  two  alternatives, 
"to  be,  or  not  to  be,"  and  he  deliberated  in  choosing 
between  these.  When  we  face  an  orchestra,  we  have  the 
choice  of  listening  to  it  as  a  whole,  or  of  selecting  some  one 
instrument,  such  as  the  first  violin,  and  paying  attention  to 
it.  In  looking  at  a  landscape,  we  choose  certain  elements 
for  close  inspection.  £Hir  world  is,  therefore,  very  mud1 
what  we  chopse  to  pay  attention  to,-  If  we  visit  the  trop 
ics  and  choose  to  heed  nothing  but  the  venomous  animals 
the  land  will  be  chiefly  one  of  snakes  and  centipedes  ;  if 
we  look  principally  at  the  birds  and  flowers,  it  will  be  to 
us  largely  a  clime  of  song  and  perfume. 

Professor  Hoffding  draws  an  apt  illustration  from  a 
comedy  in  which  the  battle  ground  of  will  is  well  por- 
trayed. Jeppe,  a  character  in  the  comedy,  wants  a  drink 
very  much.  The  element  of  desire  here  takes  its  place  in 
the  strife.  His  wife  has  just  given  him  money  with  which 
to  buy  soap.  He  knows  that  she  will  beat  him  if  he 
squanders  this  money.  Then  comes  the  second  element 
in  the  battle,  the  deliberation  over  the  longing  in  his  stom- 
ach and  the  fear  for  his  back.  "My  stomach  says  you 
shall ;  my  back,  you  shall  not."  The  wish  is  at  work  mag- 
nifying the  one  and  minimizing  the  other.  Jeppe  tries 
to  terminate  the  conflict  by  asking  himself,  "  Is  not  my 
stomach  more  to  me  than  my  back  ?  I  say,  '  Yes.' " 
With  the  word  "  Yes,"  the  third  element,  decision,  is 
on  the  field. 


326  PSYCHOLOGY  AND  PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

Immediate  and  Remote  Factors  in  Choice.  —  The  im- 
mediate factors,  as  we  have  seen,  are  (i)  a  preceding 
process  of  desire ;  (2)  the  presence  in  consciousness  of 
more  than  one  represented  object  or  end,  to  offer  an  alter- 
native course  of  action ;  (3)  deliberation  concerning  the 
respective  merits  of  these  objects ;  (4)  the  voluntary  fiat 
or  decision,  which  seems  to  embody  most  the  very  essence 
of  will. 

The  remote  factors  are  extremely  difficult  to  select. 
[The  sum  total  of  the  man  is  felt  more  in  choice  than  any- 
jwhere  else.  Shall  I  read  or  go  to  the  theater,  save  this 
money  or  spend  it  for  amusement,  go  coasting  or  get  this 
lesson,  seek  good  company  or  bad,  do  a  kindness  to 
another  or  not,  represent  things  as  they  are  or  not  ?  Be- 
fore a  second  person  could  approximate  the  outcome,  he 
would  have  to  know  certain  remote  factors,  the  principal 
being:  (i)  heredity,  (2)  environment,  (3)  education,  and 
(4)  individual  peculiarities. 

Completed  Action.  —  From  a  subjective  point  of  view, 
decision  may  end  the  matter,  but  in  a  practical  world  deci- 
sion is  of  very  little  account  unless  it  is  followed  by  action. 
The  road  to  hell  is  said  to  be  paved  .with  good  intentions, 
>r  decisions.  A  good  decision  never  moved  a  person  an 


nch  heavenward.  For  a  completed  act  of  will,  there  must 
action  along  the  line  of  the  decision.  Many  a  decision 
las  not  roused  the  motor  centers  to  action,  nor  quickened 
the  attention,  for  any  length  of  time.  There  are  persons 
who  can  frame  a  dozen  decisions  in  the  course  of  a  morning, 
and  never  carry  out  one  of  them.  Sitting  in  a  comforta- 
>le  chair,  it  may  take  one  but  a  very  short  time  to  form  a 
decision  that  will  require  months  of  hard  work.  Deciding 
n  this  way  is  very  different  from  laboring  wearily  to  carry 


327 


the  decision  into  effect.     The  decider  does  not  generally 
realize  the  amount  of  effort  involved,  when  he  airily  declares 

s  intention  of  performing  a  certain  action. 

In  our  original  illustration,  I  had  determined  to  go  to  G, 
but  my  act  of  will  was  incomplete,  for  I  had  not  gone. 
The  decision  was  no  absolute  guarantee  that  I  should  go ; 
many  things  might  arise  to  prevent.  I  might  hear  that 
diphtheria  or  typhoid  fever  had  just  broken  out  there.  A 
friend  might  insist  on  my  visiting  him.  Some  unforeseen1, 
business  might  develop  to  claim  my  entire  attention  in 
another  direction.  In  the  comedy  alluded  to  in  a  pre- 
ceding section,  Jeppe's  decision  to  drink  might  not  have 
been  carried  into  action,  had  he  seen  his  wife  waiting  for 
him  with  a  club  in  the  alehouse  door. 

Some  persons  can  never  seem  to  understand  that  re 
solving  to  do  a  thing  is  not  the  same  as  doing  it.  Such 
are  utterly  worthless  in  this  world  of  action.  They 
talk  ;  they  feel ;  they  do  anything  but  act.  They  appeal 
to  derive  almost  as  much  comfort  from  resolving  to  answei 
a  letter,  which  should  have  been  answered  two  months 
before,  as  they  would  from  actually  writing  the  reply 
There  may  be  desire,  deliberation,  and  decision;  but  L 
these  do  not  result  in  action  along  the  indicated  line,  the 
process  of  will  is  practically  incomplete. 

Inhibition.  —  Inhibition  is  that  power  resident  in  nerve 
cells  or  in  ideas,  whereby  one  cell  or  one  idea  can  restrain 
or  divert  the  customary  action  of  another.  If  every  motor 
idea  went  out  in  action,  the  individual  would  soon  perish. 
A  person  may  desire  to  pursue  a  course  of  action,  im- 
mediately pleasurable  but  remotely  hurtful  to  the  system. 
Unless  there  is  restraint  in  this  direction,  the  self  will 
be  weakened  or  destroyed.  Again,  an  action  already 


328  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 

begun  must  often  be  left  incomplete.  If  the  completion  of 
a  step  would  place  us 'on  a  rattlesnake,  a  centipede,  or  in  a 
pitfall,  we  must  be  able  to  stop  the  action  instantaneously. 
Inhibition  is  thus  as  necessary  as  the  initiation  of  action. 

A  sensory  current  may  flow  into  the  brain  and  tend  to 
start  action  in  a  given  direction,  but  if  the  outflow  along 
the  usual  line  is  repressed  for  a  second,  this  energy,  denied 
the  usual  outlet,  may  overflow  and  affect  an  inhibitory 
center,  thus  starting  that  into  action.  The  result  of  de- 
veloping this  opposing  force  may  be  equilibrium,  or  action 
in  an  opposite  direction.  Sometimes  we  seem  voluntarily 
to  innervate  cells  which  excite  opposing  muscular  move- 
ments, as  in  the  case  of  holding  a  hand  still  while  a  splin- 
ter is  withdrawn.  At  other  times  all  our  energy  seems  to 
be  directed  toward  ideas,  as  when  we  endeavor  to  keep 
ourselves  from  thinking  of  an  insult,  or  of  accidents  which 
may  befall  our  friends  on  a  journey. 

Inhibition  and  Memory.  —  The  memory  of  a  past  state 
of  consciousness  often  tends  to  inhibit  an  action  that 
would  reproduce  that  state. 

The  mere  sight  of  a  thing  tends  to  awaken  in  older 
people,  as  well  as  in  children,  a  motor  prompting  to  touch 
it,  or  to  make  some  movement,  such  as  turning  the  head. 
In  other  words,  the  sensory  sight  stimulus  tends  to  pass 
out  in  motor  action.  If  a  child  has  touched  a  hornet  and 
been  stung,  the  memory  of  the  past  resulting  condition 
of  consciousness  will  tend  to  repress  motor  inclination  to 
touch  the  hornet  again.  A  person  conies  into  our  room, 
catches  sight  of  a  pen  or  a  pair  of  eyeglasses,  and  begins 
to  twirl  them  or  strike  it  against  the  table,  until  the  mo- 
tion makes  us  nervous.  Most  of  us  feel  a  tendency  to 
de  such  things.  With  some,  however,  inhibiting  factors 


THE   WILL.  329 

arise  :  (i)  When  we  start  to  do  one  of  these  objectionable 
acts,  there  flashes  into  consciousness  a  memory  of  our  feel- 
ings when  some  one  served  us  that  way.  This  state  of 
consciousness  tends  to  arrest  the  motor  inclination  to  seize 
the  pen.  (2)  If  we  care  nothing  for  the  feelings  of  others^ 
or  are  too  stupid  to  remember  how  we  felt  on  a  similar  occa- 
sion, there  may  arise  a  memory  of  formerly  breaking  some- 
thing and  having  to  pay  for  it.  The  remembrance  of  this 

disagreeable  association  will  tend  to  inhibit  the  movement. 

<      • 

Inhibition  and  Deliberation.  —  Deliberation  is  a  very  im- 
portant factor  in  inhibition.  For  this  purpose  we  must 
summon  other  ideas,  especially  those  representing  the 
consequences  of  the  act  and  suggesting  other  courses  of 
action.  If  a  man  insults  me,  the  idea  of  knocking  him 
down  may  rush  into  my  mind  and  be  followed  by  immediate 
action.  But  if  I  can  summon  an  idea  of  the  publicity 
which  such  an  act  would  cause,  of  the  newspaper  item,  of 
the  fact  that  I  am  living  where  brute  force  is  not  supreme ; 
if  I  can  form  the  idea  of  an  alternative  course, —  dignified 
silence,  and  completely  ignoring  the  speaker,  —  delibera- 
tion may  show  me  that  the  latter  alternative  is  the  better. 
Here,  the  force  generated  by  the  ideas  is  not  lost,  but 
diffused  through  all  the  muscles,  and  it  may  raise  the  tem- 
perature of  the  entire  body.  The  nails  are  often  pressed 
into  the  palms,  the  jaw  firmly  set,  the  face  flushed.  The 
will  also  expends  a  portion  of  the  motor  energy  in  sum- 
moning ideas  of  the  consequences  of  the  action,  and  hold- 
ing those  ideas  firmly  before  the  mind  while  the  thinking 
power  deliberates. 

Reflexes,  impulses,  and  instincts  tend  to  rush  into  action 
before  deliberative  inhibition  can  be  applied.  The  act  is 
finished  before  an  idea  of  the  consequences  flashes  into 


330  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 

consciousness.  A  master  stroke  in  the  inhibitory  battle 
is  to  attend  to  an  idea  that'  suggests  an  opposing  action. 
A  drunkard,  on  his  way  to  a  saloon,  thought  of  the  misery 
of  a  sick  child  at  home.  As  the  idea  grew  more  vivid, 
his  steps  became  slower.  Finally  he  stopped,  turned,  and 
went  homeward. 

Inhibitory  Power  a  Comparatively  Late  Development.  — 

Inhibition  makes  its  appearance  only  with  education  and 
experience.  Animals,  young  children,  and  savages  restrain 
few  actions.  If  the  tail  of  a  cat  is  pinched,  the  customary 
action  will  follow.  If  the  feelings  of  a  cultivated  person 
are  hurt,  there  will  often  be  no  outward  sign.  If  food  is 
placed  before  an  animal,  it  will  gorge  what  it  can  and  tram- 
ple on  the  rest.  In  the  same  way,  many  young  people 
cannot  inhibit  the  tendency  to  waste  time  and  trample  on 
their  golden  opportunities.  The  effort  of  a  developed  will  .« 
is  nowhere  more  marked  than  in  inhibition. 


The  Direction  of  Will.  —  A  very  little  reflection  will 
suffice  to  point  out  two  different  classes  of  objects  toward 
which  the  will  acts  :  — 

I.  The  will  goes  out  in  muscular  movement.     My  foot 
is  still ;  I  will  to  move  it,  and  motion  follows.     I  am  fall 
ing ;  I  will  to  catch  at  something,  and  my  arms  are  imme- 
diately  moved.      The   will   is   almost   always   expressing 
itself  in  varied  muscular  action.     In  all  these  cases,  will 
power  seems  to  flow  out  from  the  brain  toward  the  mus- 
cles.     In  emotion,  the  will  often  actively  represses  the 
natural  muscular  movement. 

II.  The  will  is  directed  inward  upon  mental  processes 
and  objects,     (i)   The  will   appears  in  perception  in  the 
form  of  attention,  holding  the  mind  on  the  object  while 


THE   WILL.  331 

the  intellectual  process  in  perception  is  completing  itself. 
(2)  The  will  is  active  in  representation  or  recall.  Suppose 
we  have  two  ideas,  A  and  C,  before  our  mental  gaze,  and 
are  searching  for  the  idea  connecting  them.  A  throng  of 
ideas  comes  to  our  minds,  say  L,  T,  Y,  etc.  The  will  dis- 
misses these  to  make  room  for  others,  until  B  appears, 
when  it  is  detained.  This  shows  the  voluntary  process 
by  which  we  search  for  lost  ideas.  (3)  The  will  shows 
special  activity  in  thought.  Consciousness  is  not  made 
up  of  isolated  ideas,  but  of  ideas  woven  together  by  thought 
in  the  conscious  mind.  Weaving  implies  activity,  and  will 
is  behind  that  activity  ;  hence  will  is  necessary  to  correlate 
the  facts  of  consciousness.  In  comparison,  the  will  is  busy 
fixing  the  attention,  and  in  dismissing  and  retaining  ideas. 
(4)  The  will  may  be  active  in  emotion,  either  in  excitation 
or  repression.  Ideas  are  detained  to  fan  the  flame  of  feel- 
ing, or  they  are  dismissed,  and  others  that  tend  to  repress 
it  are  summoned,  s 


Will  and  Motive.  —  In  the  higher  type  of  action,  the 
will  can  go  out  only  in  the  direction  of  an  idea.  Every 
idea  which  becomes  an  object  of  desire  is  a  motive.  It  is 
true  that  the  will  tends  to  go  in  the  direction  of  the  great- 
est motive,  that  is,  toward  the  object  which  seems  most 
desirable;  but  the  will,  through  voluntary  attention,  puts 
energy  into  a  motive  idea  and  thus  makes  it  strong.  It 
is  impossible  to  center  the  attention  long  on  an  idea,  with- 
out developing  positive  or  negative  interest,  attraction  or 
repulsion.  Thus  does  the  will  develop  motives. 

We  may  state  as  a  law  the  fact  that  the  will  determines 
which  motive  shall  become  the  strongest,  by  determining 
which  ideas  shall  occupy  the  field  of  consciousness.  We 
have  seen  that  emotion  and  desire  arise  in  the  presence  of 


332 


PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 


ideas,  and  that  the  will  has  influence  in  detaining  or  in  ban- 
ishing a  given  idea.  If  one  idea  is  kept  before  the  mind, 
a  desire  and  a  strong  motive  may  gather  about  that  idea. 
If  another  idea  is  called  in,  the  power  of  the  first  will 
decline.  The  more  Macbeth  and  his  wife  held  before 
themselves  the  idea  of  the  fame  and  power  which  the 
throne  would  confer  upon  them,  the  stronger  became 
the  desire  to  kill  the  king,  until  it  finally  grew  too  strong 
to  be  mastered.  They  were,  however,  responsible  for  nurs- 
ing the  desire ;  had  they  resolutely  thought  of  something 
else,  that  desire  would  have  weakened.  A  person  might 
keep  a  lion  cub,  feed  it,  and  nurture  it  carefully.  If 
warned  of  the  danger,  he  might  reply :  "  See,  I  can  throw 
this  cub  clear  across  the  room.  I  can  kill  the  whelp  with 
one  blow  of  this  iron  bar.  I  am  too  strong  to  fear."  He 
continues  to  feed  the  cub,  and  it  finally  becomes  so  strong 
that  it  attacks  and  kills  him.  This  is  precisely  the  case 
of  him  who  feeds  a  bad  desire  with  the  fitting  ideas.  It 
may  some  day  master  his  will. 

Simple  and  Complex  Action.  —  When  a  child  sees  a  red 
apple  and  reaches  out  to  grasp  it,  the  action  is  simpler  than 
that  of  a  grown  person  who  wonders  if  the  apples  on  a 
certain  tree  in  the  orchard  are  ripe,  and  starts  out  to 
investigate.  There  was  no  apple  before  him  to  incite  him, 
but  only  the  image  or  memory  of  one.  The  presence  of 
images  guiding  action  renders  it  more  complex,  for  there 
are  representative  elements  instead  of  present  objects. 

An  example  will  serve  to  show  what  a  complex  product 
action  may  be.  A  person  decides  to  take  a  European 
trip  two  years  hence.  He  at  once  begins  to  collect  books 
to  read  about  the  points  of  interest  in  the  countries  he 
proposes  to  visit.  Perhaps  he  economizes  in  various  ways 


THE  WILL.  333 

so  as  to  have  sufficient  money  for  the  trip.  He  studies 
the  more  common  forms  of  expression  in  certain  foreign 
languages.  In  this  way,  numerous  acts  come  in  as  aux- 
iliaries to  the  main  act  of  taking  the  trip,  and  each  of -these 
acts  may  call  into  play  many  representative  images. 

Certain  elements  are  necessary  in  a  case  of  complex  will 
before  we  come  to  deliberation  or  decision.  Suppose  that 
we  are  sitting  in  the  house  and  decide  to  go  into  the  garden 
to  eat  some  grapes.  There  must  have  been  :  (i)  former 
perception  of  grapes  ;  (2)  memory  of  the  grapes  and  of  the 
garden,  together  with  a  recall  of  former  pleasure  in  con- 
nection with  them  ;  (3)  the  resulting  desire. 

Human  action  increases  in  complexity  as  experience 
widens.  A  child  may  be  but  little  moved  at  the  prospect 
of  some  pleasure  promised  for  a  month  hence.  A  man 
will  plant  a  tree,  although  he  knows  that  he  cannot  eat  the 
fruit  for  years.  The  will  of  the  child  is  as  immature  as 
its  experience.  When  some  pleasure  is  denied  or  a  toy 
broken,  the  child  gives  itself  up  to  uncontrolled  tears. 
Children  frequently  do  wrong,  though  certain  to  be  pun- 
ished when  they  are  detected.  Their  experience  has  not 
taught  them  to  curb  action  in  view  of  a  distant  result. 
Sometimes  older  persons  do  acts  for  which  they  believe 
they  must  be  punished  in  the  eternal  courts  of  justice, 
because  the  morrow  of  death  seems  so  far  away.  When 
we  save  for  the  morrow  or  for  old  age,  our  actions  are 
due  to  the  complex  representations  of  experience.  The 
same  is  true  when  a  student  masters  knowledge  in  order 
to  have  it  at  his  disposal  in  the  years  to  come. 

Development  of  Will.  —  Will  is  only  a  potential  capacity 
in  a  child,  very  much  as  the  roots  of  a  tree  are  in  an  acorn. 
For  some  time  his  movements  are  reflex,  impulsive,  or 


334  PSYCHOLOGY   AND    PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

instinctive.  He  remembers  these,  repeats  them  again  and 
again,  and  is  then  ready  for  the  next  step.  The  will  grows 
as  much  as  the  other  mental  powers. 

The  first-step,  in  the  development  of  will  consists  in 
getting  awtral~0f—tke--ntm€t4s.  What  we  call  our  ego, 
or  self,  is  surrounded  by  a  network  of  muscles  which  we 
must  learn  how  to  use.  The  will  receives  its  first  develop- 
ment in  connection  with  these.  The  muscles  are,  in  the 
beginning,  more  difficult  to  control  than  a  bicycle,  or  the 
keys  of  a  piano,  for  a  beginner.  When  a  child  learns  to 
write,  the  muscles  take  the  pen  precisely  where  he  does 
not  wish  it  to  go.  His  whole  face  and  tongue  tend  to 
move  in  connection  with  his  arm  and  fingers.  The  will  all 
the  while  gains  more  and  more  control  over  the  muscles, 
until  they  finally  respond  to  its  slightest  prompting  with 
wonderful  definiteness.  A  young  quail,  on  leaving  the 
shell,  can  run  swiftly  and  avoid  objects  with  precision;  but 
in  the  case  of  the  human  species,  these  muscular  move- 
ments are  whetstones  to  sharpen  the  will  for  the  more 
varied  struggles  of  life. 

Motor  imagination  is  an  ideal  combination  of  past  move- 
ments into  a  new  and  more  complex  product.  Just  as 
the  sewing  machine  is  the  product  of  a  new  combination 
of  well-known  metals  and  mechanical  principles,  so  are  the 
movements  in  swimming  a  combination  of  simpler  move- 
ments of  arm  and  leg,  which  have  been  previously  tested. 
The  will  here  makes  the  movements  fit  into  the  ideal  fore- 
cast. Motor  memory  gradually  becomes  so  definite  that 
one  can  tie  a  necktie,  play  the  piano,  or  write  correctly,  in 
the  dark.  Each  exercise  of  motor  memory  and  imagination 
shows  that  the  will  has  conquered  new  territory,  and  is 
master  of  a  more  complex  product,  which  is  required  for 
the  labyrinthine  movements  of  life. 


THE  WILL.  335 

The  will  often  has  a  severe  task  in  separating  the  differ- 
ent elements  of  a  complex  motor  presentation,  for  new  com- 
birations  of  the  motor  imagination.  To  illustrate,  there 
is  a  tendency,  in  the  first  motor  presentation,  to  move 
the  entire  hand  in  one  way ;  but  in  learning  to  play  the 
piano,  the  varied  movements  of  which  the  hand  is  capable 
must  be  separated.  One  finger  must  be  moved  in  one 
way ;  another,  in  another  way.  Then  there  must  be  har- 
monious combination  of  these  separated  movements  to 
produce  the  right  notes  in  order.  A  child  learning  to 
write  often  finds  it  hard  to  separate  the  movements  in 
the  fingers  from  those  in  the  tongue  and  lips.  This  is 
a  much  severer  task  for  the  will  than  to  separate  ideally 
the  branches  from  a  tree,  the  head  from  the  body,  or  the 
wings  from  a  bird,  for  here  the  imaginative  forecast 
must  be  made  a  reality ;  hence  the  will  has  to  control 
both  idea  and  muscles. 

The  second  step  in  the  development  of  will  consists 
in  controlling  ideas.  Attention  is  the  chief  power  in  a 
developed  will.  Attention  puts  vigor  into  an  idea,  motor 
vigor  as  well  as  other  power.  The  will  thus  enables  some 
ideas  to  fight  their  way  to  the  front,  and  relegates  others 
to  the  rear  by  withdrawing  attention  from  them.  The 
person  who  can  do  this  with  ideas  as  they  come  has  a 
highly  developed  will.  Attention  is,  at  first,  fugitive  and 
involuntary.  Later,  the  child  strives  to  attend  in  a  desul- 
tory sort  of  way ;  but  any  slight  outside  stimulus,  as  the 
entrance  of  a  dog  into  the  room,  causes  his  will  to  relax 
its  grip  on  the  ideas  in  the  lesson,  and  his  attention  flits 
elsewhere.  Not  until  ideas  can  be  held  firmly  before  the 
mind,  even  when  the  provocation  is  great  to  let  them  slip 
away,  is  the  will  developed  on  its  most  important  side. 
While  this  voluntary  power  can  be  gradually  acquired,  it 


336  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

is  nevertheless  a  fact  that  only  the  few,  the  successful  ones 
in  life,  ever  have  a  highly  developed  will. 

Conscious  Elements  in  an  Act  of  Developed  Will.  —  (i) 

Antecedent  to  higher  voluntary  action,  we  are  conscious 
of  either  a  sensation  or  a  represented  past  sensation. 
Before  we  start  to  shut  a  window,  a  present  sensation  may 
affect  us,  —  we  may  actually  see  rain,  mosquitoes,  or  dust 
coming  in.  Or  the  memories  of  past  sensations  due  to 
toothache,  cold  in  the  head,  or  rheumatism,  may  precede 
the  act  of  shutting  the  window.  In  either  case,  the  first 
conscious  element  is  a  sensation,  present  or  remembered. 

(2)  Before  we  start  to  shut  the  window,  we  must  have 
an  idea  of  what  we  intend  to  do.     The  idea  of  the  end  is 
the  second  element  in  consciousness.     Were  this  not  the 
case,  a  sensation  might  prompt  us  to  do  any  one  of  innu- 
merable unrelated  acts.     Instead  of  shutting  the  window, 
we  might  brush  our  teeth,  take  off  our  shoes,  lock  the 
door,  or  lie  down. 

(3)  Preceding  action,  there  is  a  vague  feeling  of  more 
or  less  mental,  muscular,  or  nervous  power.     This  con- 
scious sense  of   power,  even  when  we  are  not  actually 
engaged  in  willing,  is  popularly  expressed  by,  "  I  feel  as 
if  I  could  (or  could  not)  do  that  now." 

(4)  After  voluntary  action,  there  is  a  conscious  sensa- 
tion due  to  muscular  movement.     It  is  a  disputed  point 
whether  we  are  conscious  of   a  stream  of  effort  flowing 
into  a  motor  nerve,  or  whether  we  are  only  conscious  of 
an  affection  resulting  from   a   stream  flowing  in    from  a 
sensory  nerve.     The  relation  of  consciousness  to  our  nerv- 
ous mechanism  is  very  obscure.      A  paralytic   seems   to 
have  a  sense  of  effort  in  trying  to  move  a  limb,  when  its 
muscles  do  not  stir. 


THE   WILL.  337 

(5)  In  attention  centered  upon  ideas  there  is  a  sense  of 
effort,  sometimes  pleasurable,  sometimes  painful.  It  is  a 
tremendous  effort  for  a  schoolboy  to  center  his  attention 
on  his  lessons,  when  he  knows  his  companions  are  waiting 
for  him  outside.  Attention  causes  a  change  in  cerebral 
blood  supply  and  in  brain  cells.  These  changes  probably 
contribute  additional  elements  to  consciousness. 

Tendency  of  Higher  to  Lapse  into  Lower  Voluntary 
Acts.  —  After  we  have  with  difficulty  performed  a  volun- 
tary act  several  times,  we  notice  that  new  repetitions 
gradually  begin  to  grow  easier,  that  they  are  attended 
with  less  conscious  effort.  In  some  cases  this  effort  dis- 
appears entirely  from  consciousness,  and  the  action  after 
the  initial  start  seems  to  go  on  of  itself.  Walking  was  to 
us  all  once  an  art,  which  seemed  to  require  the  skill  of  a 
wonderful  juggler.  Now,  after  we  have  once  started  our 
legs,  we  pay  no  further  attention  to  their  movements  until 
we  voluntarily  stop  them.  During  this  time  we  may  be 
talking  on  a  subject  that  requires  all  our  voluntary  atten- 
tion. We  are  conscious  of  our  muscular  movements  only 
in  a  reflex  way.  The  movements  of  the  fingers  in  playing 
the  piano  at  first  take  all  the  will  power  at  our  disposal. 
Later,  we  can  use  our  will  in  another  direction,  and  our 
fingers  continue  to  strike  the  right  keys. 

At  first  our  wills  often  have  a  serious  task  to  keep  the 
attention  on  new  and  difficult  subjects ;  but  after  repeated 
attempts,  it  seems  to  fall  and  rest  there  as  easily  and 
naturally  as  snowflakes  on  the  ground.  At  first  it  may 
be  a  task  for  a  tradesman  not  to  misrepresent  an  article ; 
but  if  he  perseveres,  he  will  tend  to  become  uncon- 
sciously honest  from  force  of  habit.  Or,  if  he  has,  at 
the  outset,  a  struggle  with  his  moral  sense  in  deceiving 

HAIJ-ECK'S   PSYC.  —  22 


338  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 

customers,  he  will  soon  come  to  practice  deception  without 
an  effort. 

There  are  two  laws  governing  such  cases  as  the  above : 
(i)  An  action  tends  to  recur,  and  to  become  easier  with 
each  performance.  (2)  Actions,  at  first  voluntary,  after 
frequent  repetition,  either  take  less  hold  on  the  conscious 
attention  or  they  produce  only  a  subconscious  effect. 

To  account  for  this,  Professor  James  formulates  this 
law :  "  An  acquired  habit,  from  the  physiological  point  of 
view,  is  nothing  but  a  new  pathway  of  discharge  formed 
in  the  brain,  by  which  certain  incoming  currents  ever  after 
tend  to  escape."  This  law  has  neither  been  proved  nor 
disproved,  but  it  is  probably  broadly  true,  in  so  far  as  it 
relates  to  some  peculiar  nerve  change  due  to  repeated 
acts.  It  is,  however,  not  necessary  to  suppose  a  new  path 
of  discharge.  A  molecular  change  in  the  nerve  structure 
of  the  old  path  might  serve  equally  well.  Then  the  cur- 
rents might  glide  along  with  so  little  friction  as  just  to 
graze  consciousness  as  a  reflex  act,  or  the  friction  might 
be  so  slight  as  to  arouse  no  consciousness. 

To  illustrate  the  two  hypotheses,  we  may  suppose  a  lake 
subject  to  a  rise  from  freshets.  The  waters  flowing  through 
the  outlet  may  inundate  the  surrounding  country.  A  new 
and  broader  outlet  may  be  made,  which  will  easily  carry 
off  the  water,  or  repeated  freshets  may  so  deepen  the  first 
outlet  that  the  water  may  be  carried  away  beneath  the  sur- 
face level  of  the  land.  Here,  the  inundation  corresponds 
to  consciousness  filled  with  the  sense  of  voluntary  effort. 
The  unconscious  acts  of  habit  are  like  the  outflow  in  the 
deepened  channel,  without  the  former  inundation. 

Will  and  Character.  —  What  has  the  will  to  do  with  char- 
acter ?  Character  is  largely  a  resultant  of  every  voluntary 


<fl 

i  ? 

\  3Q-—  -«•—  • 

U\\Aa._ 


THE   WILL. 

act  from  childhood  to  the  grave.      We  gradually  make  ou 
characters  by  separate  acts  of  will,  just  as  a  blacksmith  by 
repeated  blows  beats  out  a  horseshoe  or  an  anchor  from 
shapeless  mass  of  iron.     A  finished  anchor  or  horseshoe 
was  never  the  product  of  a  single  blow.     A  man  acquires  N3^ 
character  by  separate  voluntary  acts.     We  apply  the  termV^T 
"  conduct  "  to  those  actions  unified  into  a  whole,  which  re- 
late  to  the  welfare  of  the  self,  either  directly  or  indirectly, 
through  the  welfare  of  others. 

Character  is  a  resultant  of  several  factors  —  wilL  hered- 
ity, and  environment.  Let  us  take  an  actual  case  to  rep- 
resent these  at  work.  Shakespeare  was  born  of  parents 
who  could  neither  read  nor  write.  There  was  something 
more  in  the  boy  than  in  either  of  them.  A  part  of  that 
additional  something  was  due  to  his  will,  which,  by  always 
acting  in  a  definite  way,  often  in  the  line  of  the  greatest 
resistance,  gave  him  stability  when  others  were  wavering 
like  reeds  in  a  wind.  Unlike  Marlowe,  Shakespeare  was 
not  killed  in  an  alehouse,  although  he  must  have  felt 
promptings  to  waste  his  time  and  nervous  force  there,  as 
did  so  many  of  his  fellow  dramatists.  In  resisting  these 
tendencies,  in  putting  the  best  of  himself,  not  into  revels, 
but  into  his  dramatic  work,  he  acquired  character.  That 
heredity  was  not  all  in  his  case  is  shown  by  the  fact  that 
he  had  brothers  and  sisters,  who  never  climbed  the  heights 
with  him.  His  limited  early  opportunities  show  that  envi- 
ronment was  not  all  that  made  him.  Besides,  environment 
did  not  make  Shakespeares  out  of  others  born  in  that  age. 
There  was  will  power  in  him  that  rose  above  heredity  and 
environment,  and  gave  him  a  character  that  breathes  forth 
in  every  play. 

The  modern  tendency  is  to  overestimate  the  effects  of 
heredity  and  environment  in  forming  character;  but,  on 


34O  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

the  other  hand,  we  must  not  underestimate  them.  The 
child  of  a  Hottentot  put  in  Shakespeare's  home,  and  after- 
wards sent  away  to  London  with  him,  would  never  have 
made  a  Shakespeare ;  for  heredity  would  not  have  given 
the  will  sufficient  raw  material  to  fashion  over  into  such 
a  noble  product.  We  may  also  suppose  a  case  to  show  the 
great  power  of  environment.  Had  a  band  of  gypsies 
stolen  Shakespeare  at  birth,  carried  him  to  Tartary,  and 
left  him  among  the  nomads,  his  environment  would  never 
have  allowed  him  to  produce  such  plays  as  he  placed  upon 
the  English  stage. 

Heredity  is  a  powerful  factor,  for  it  supplies  raw  mate- 
rial for  the  will  to  shape.  Even  the  will  cannot  make 
anything  without  material.  Will  acts  through  choice,  and 
some  kinds  of  environment  afford  far  more  opportunities 
for  choice  than  others.  Shakespeare  found  in  London  the 
germ  of  true  theatrical  taste,  already  vivified  by  a  long  line 
of  miracle  plays,  moralities,  and  interludes.  In  youth  he 
connected  himself  with  the  theater,  and  his  will  responded 
powerfully  to  his  environment.  Some  surroundings  are 
rich  in  suggestion,  affording  opportunity  for  choice ;  while 
others  are  poor.  The  will  is  absolutely  confined  to  a 
choice  between  alternatives. 

Character,  then,  is  a  resultant  of  will  power,  heredity, 
and  environment.  A  man  cannot  choose  his  parents,  but 
he  can  to  a  certain  extent  determine  his  environment. 
Shakespeare  left  Stratford  and  went  to  London.  He 
might  have  chosen  to  go  to  some  insignificant  town  where 
the  surroundings  would  have  been  uninspiring.  In  middle 
life  a  man's  decisions  represent  his  character.  He  will 
be  swayed  by  the  resultant  force  of  all  his  preceding 
choices ;  in  other  words,  by  his  character. 

Some  years  after  leaving  school,  a  young  man  approached 


THE  WILL.  341 

a  classmate  and  said :  "  I  want  you  to  come  into  a  profitable 
partnership  with  me.  I  have  learned  the  intricacies  of 
a  certain  peculiar  line  of  trade,  where  I  see  a  chance, 
because  of  my  special  knowledge,  to  pick  up  bargains 
almost  every  week.  I  have  not  the  capital  for  this.  You 
furnish  that,  and  we  will  divide  the  profits." 

The  classmate,  afterward  mentioning  the  affair  to  a 
friend,  said :  "  I  did  not  go  into  partnership  with  him, 
for  he  had  no  fixed  character.  Even  in  school  he  would 
sometimes  tell  the  truth  and  sometimes  not,  sometimes 
study  and  sometimes  cheat  his  way  through.  His  knowl- 
edge and  capacity  for  making  money  in  that  line  are 
undoubted,  and  I  am  sorry  that  he  has  not  character 
enough  for  me  to  join  him,  but  I  could  not  be  certain 
that  he  would  not  misrepresent  the  cost  of  the  articles 
purchased.  Again,  I  am  not  sure  whether  he  could  be 
depended  on  to  stay  sober.  I  know  that  I  am  the  loser 
as  well  as  he,  because  he  has  no  character." 

FREEDOM  IN  WILLING. 

True  Conception  of  Freedom.  —  All  persons  agree  that 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  unrestrained  liberty.  Every 
human  being  is,  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave,  subject  to 
external  restraint.  If  a  man  declares  that  he  is  free  to  go 
without  food,  air,  or  sleep,  and  tries  to  act  accordingly, 
consequences  will  soon  deprive  him  of  that  liberty.  The 
circle  of  freedom  is  much  smaller  than  is  sometimes 
thought;  the  fish  is  never  free  to  become  an  eagle. 
Human  freedom  may  be  likened  to  a  vessel  sailing  up 
a  river.  Her  course  must  be  kept  rigidly  within  the 
banks;  she  cannot  sail  on  the  dry  land;  but  by  tack- 
ing, she  can  make  headway  up  the  stream  in  the  teeth 


342  PSYCHOLOGY  AND  PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

of  the  wind,  and  she  can  stop  either  at  this  town  or 
at  that.  The  popular  belief  seems  correct,  that  the  sphere 
of  freedom  is  sufficiently  wide  to  allow  a  man  scope 
enough  to  keep  him  busy  for  several  lifetimes. 

Freedom  consists  in  being  able  to  choose  between 
two  or  more  alternative  courses  of  action.  A  stone  is 
limited  to  one  course  and  is  subject  to  an  unvarying  law 
of  gravity.  Exclude  the  power  of  choice,  and  all  freedom 
is  gone.  If  we  have  the  power  of  alternative  choice, 
we  are  within  certain  limits  free.  These  limits  vary.  If 
I  am  educated  so  that  I  know  how  to  do  several  different 
things  in  the  higher  walks  of  life,  I  can  choose  any  of 
those  things.  If  I  am  ignorant  and  can  perform  only 
cruder  tasks,  my  capacity  for  choice  is  excluded  from 
higher  lines  of  action. 

Some  deny  that  human  beings  have  any  more  freedom 
than  a  stone.  The  discussion  of  the  freedom  of  the  will 
properly  belongs  to  metaphysics,  but  the  question  is  one 
that  so  vitally  concerns  our  mental  lives,  that  we  shall 
here  consider  the  question  very  briefly. 

Difference  in  Mental  and  Physical  Causes.  —  Spontane- 
ity is  the  power  of  originating  movements  within  the  self. 
If  we  look  at  a  protozoon,  we  shall  see  it  occasionally 
make  movements  due  to  no  external  cause,  so  far  as  we 
can  learn.  The  capacity  for  movement  is  within  the  body. 
These  movements  are  of  a  higher  type  than  those  in  a 
stone,  but  they  are  strictly  conditioned  by  the  nervous 
system.  Spontaneity  differs  from  the  power  of  alter- 
native choice,  because  such  a  movement,  though  self- 
originated,  knows  no  possibility  of  choice. 

With  matter,  there  is  uniformity  of  cause  and  effect 
to  a  degree  not  observable  in  mind.  To-day  I  see  lying 


THE  WILL.  343 

npon  the  table  before  me  a  penknife.  I  pick  it  up  and 
open  a  blade.  To-morrow  I  see  the  same  knife,  but  do  not 
pick  it  up.  There  is  plainly  here  not  the  uniformity  of 
cause  and  effect  to  which  we  are  accustomed  in  physics. 
Again,  in  the  mental  world,  action  is  not  proportional  to  the 
intensity  of  the  stimulus.  An  entomologist  in  a  forest  might 
listen  to  the  chirp  of  a  cricket,  but  not  heed  the  louder  caw 
of  a  crow. 

Deliberation  comes  in  to  check  the  flowing  of  a  cause 
into  its  effect.  The  operation  of  a  mental  cause  is  thus 
often  stopped  or  deflected.  There  is  nothing  parallel 
in  the  action  of  gravity  or  of  physical  forces.  Will 
often  suspends  action.  I  decide  to-day  to  do  a  certain 
thing,  but  I  do  not  carry  the  decision  into  effect  for  a 
year.  Gravity  has  not  been  proved  to  suspend  its  action 
in  an  analogous  way. 

Appeal  to  the  Universality  of  Causation.  —  Some  modern 
philosophers  say  that  it  is  unphilosophical  to  believe 
in  the  freedom  of  the  will,  since  the  law  of  the  univer- 
sality of  cause  and  effect  here  meetr  with  its  first  and 
only  exception.  There  is  no  such  universal  law.  If  we 
run  back  sufficiently  far  along  the  links  in  the  chain 
of  causes  we  must  come  (i)  either  to  the  first  link,  or  (2) 
to  the  conclusion  that  the  chain  is  infinite.  Under  the 
first  supposition,  we  have  a  right  to  ask  what  caused  the 
first  link,  and  we  receive  no  answer.  On  the  second 
hypothesis,  there  could  have  been  no  temporal  cause,  as 
we  understand  it.  We  cannot  suppose  a  preceding  cause 
to  an  event  which  has  no  beginning.  Hence,  since  the 
law  of  the  universality  of  mechanical  cause  has  suffered 
one  exception,  there  is  no  a  priori  impossibility  that 
another  break  may  be  found  somewhere  in  nature. 


344  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 

Attention  and  the  Motive.  —  In  the  capacity  for  atten- 
tion we  have  tho  key  to  the  freedom  of  the  will.  Volun- 
tary attention  makes  the  motive.  The  motive  does  not 
make  the  attention.  Hence  the  motive  is  a  product  of 
the  will.  If  I  withdraw  my  attention  from  a  motive  idea, 
it  loses  vigor,  like  a  plant  deprived  of  air  and  moisture. 
We  have  already  shown  this  fact  at  sufficient  length.  By 
sheer  force  of  will  power,  many  a  one  has  withdrawn  his 
attention  from  certain  temptations,  centered  it  elsewhere, 
and  thus  developed  a  counter  motive. 

Testimony  of  Consciousness.  —  We  hear  it  daily  said 
that  some  one  was  foolish  in  following  one  line  of  action 
in  preference  to  another.  We  never  make  the  same  re- 
mark about  a  stone  in  motion  or  at  rest.  When  we  delib- 
erate whether  to  accept  this  offer  or  that,  to  follow  this 
vocation  or  that,  consciousness  distinctly  tells  us  that  we 
are  free  to  choose  either  alternative.  We  feel  that  we  are 
acting  sensibly  in  deliberating,  that  it  is  we  who  are  decid- 
ing, that  we  are  not  the  helpless  conscious  spectators  of  a 
decision  made  for  us  by  brain,  atoms  or  outside  stimuli. 
Consciousness  never  gave  clearer,  more  direct,  or  more 
forcible  testimony  than  when  saying  that  we  are  some- 
times free  to  choose  between  alternative  courses  of  action. 

The  opponent  of  freedom  says  that  consciousness  testi- 
fies to  a  falsehood,  that  she  is  an  incompetent  witness  and 
must  be  thrown  out  of  court.  If  this  is  the  case,  no 
structure  of  physical  science  built  solely  by  the  light  of 
conscious  reason  can  be  firm.  Consciousness  may  have 
testified  to  the  truth  of  repeated  falsehoods  in  physics, 
astronomy,  or  botany.  Dr.  Hyslop  rightly  says  :  "  I  have 
nothing  but  the  testimony  of  consciousness  to  the  cogency 
of  the  argument  for  necessitarianism.  But  if  that  author- 


THE   WILL.  345 

ity  be  impeached,  I  am  as  much  in  the  dark  about  that 
theory  as  I  can  possibly  be  about  freedomfem." 

Remorse,  Blame,  Duty.  —  Men  have  often  experienced 
intense  remorse  under  the  notion  that  they  might  have 
acted  differently.  Thus,  Nero  felt,  when  the  fires  of 
remorse  were  lighted,  that  he  was  not  compelled  to  mur- 
der his  mother.  Children  have  often  suffered  acutely  in 
recalling  how  they  might  have  treated  a  dead  parent 
better.  If  there  is  no  freedom  to  act  differently,  why 
should  remorse  ever  be  felt  ?  Remorse  depresses  the  vital 
energies,  and  breaks  down  nerve  cells.  If  a  poor  creature 
could  not  have  acted  differently,  why  should  he  be  tor- 
tured with  remorse  ?  There  is  no  answer  to  this  question, 
except  on  the  assumption  of  freedom,  for  the  scientist  is 
compelled  to  admit  that  all  his  investigations  are  deter- 
mined by  the  idea  that  things  have  a  purpose.  Remorse 
must  also  be  held  to  have  a  purpose,  if  only  to  serve  as 
punishment  for  moral  wrong. 

We  cannot  logically  blame  another,  unless  we  suppose 
that  he  could  have  acted  differently.  We  do  not  blame 
a  bullet  for  killing  a  man,  because  the  projectile  could 
not  help  traveling  in  the  path  determined  by  causes  over 
which  the  agent  had  .no  control.  The  idta  of  duty  is 
based  on  the  supposition  of  freedom.  Duty  often  re- 
quires us  to  choose  the  most  difficult  and  disagreeable 
of  several  alternative  courses  of  action. 

We  thus  see  that  human  society  is  founded  on  the  sup- 
position that  man  has,  to  a  certain  degree,  the  capacity 
for  alternative  choice.  Without  this  fixed  belief  in  free- 
dom, such  words  as  duty,  right,  wrong,  blame,  crime, 
reward,  and  punishment  would  disappear  from  our  lan- 
guage. 


346  PSYCHOLOGY   AND    PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

HYGIENIC  ASPECTS  OF  THE  WILL. 

Effect  of  Voluntary  Attention  upon  the  Bodily  States.  — 
It  has  been  known  for  a  long  time  that  if  the  attention 
is  directed  toward  any  bodily  organ,  abnormal  sensations 
may  be  caused  in  it,  and  disease  may  be  developed.  The 
renowned  Dr.  John  Hunter  said :  "  I  am  confident  that  I 
can  fix  my  attention  to  any  part,  until  I  have  a  sensation 
in  that  part."  Dr.  Tuke  says  that  these  are  "words  which 
ought  to  be  inscribed  in  letters  of  gold  over  the  entrance 
of  a  Hospital  for  the  Cure  of  Disease  by  Psychopathy. 
Hunter's  confident  assertion  is  the  more  interesting  be- 
cause, drawn  from  his  own  experience,  it  shows  that  the 
principle  is  not  confined  in  its  operation  to  the  susceptible 
and  nervous,  but  operates  even  on  men  of  the  highest 
mental  endowment." 

We  have  examples  from  the  literature  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  showing  how  the  expectation  of  a  complaint  will 
produce  it.  In  1607  an  ignorant  English  physician  told 
a  clergyman's  wife  that  she  had  sciatica,  although  there 
was,  in  reality,  nothing  the  matter  with  her  sciatic  nerve. 
Her  attention  was  thereby  directed  to  it  and  a  severe 
attack  of  sciatica  was  the  result.  When  a  person  inex- 
perienced in  medicine  reads  carefully  the  symptoms  of 
some  disease,  he  is  apt  to  begin  an  attentive  search  for 
those  symptoms  and  to  end  by  fancying  that  he  has  them. 

Seasick  persons  have  been  relieved  of  their  nausea  by 
being  made  to  bail  a  leaking  boat  from  the  fear  that  it 
would  sink.  All  their  attention  was  thereby  diverted 
from  themselves.  Many  can  recall  how  children,  and 
grown  persons,  too,  have  forgotten  all  about  their  alleged 
intense  thirst,  as  soon  as  their  attention  was"  diverted. 
Some  persons,  after  eating  something  which  they  fancy  is 


THE   WILL. 


347 


a  trifle  indigestible,  center  their  attention  upon  the  stom- 
ach, expecting  symptoms  of  indigestion,  and  are  often  not 
disappointed.  A  man  who  had  good  reason  to  fear  hydro- 
phobia, determined  that  he  would  not  have  it.  The  pain 
in  the  bitten  arm  became  intense,  and  he  saw  that  he  must 
have  something  to  divert  his  attention  from  the  wound 
and  his  danger.  He  therefore  went  hunting,  but  found 
no  game.  To  make  amends,  he  summoned  a  more  in- 
flexible will  and  exerted  at  every  step  "a  strong  mental 
effort  against  the  disease."  He  kept  on  hunting  until 
he  felt  better,  and  he  mastered  himself  so  perfectly  that 
he  probably  thereby  warded  off  an  attack  of  hydrophobia. 

According  as  we  center  our  attention  upon  one  thing 
or  another,  we  largely  determine  our  mental  happiness 
and  hence  our  bodily  health.  One  person,  in  walking 
through  a  noble  forest,  may  search  only  for  spiders  and 
venomous  creatures,  while  another  confines  his  attention 
to  the  singing  birds  in  the  branches  above.  One  reason 
why  travel  is  such  a  cure  for  diseases  of  body  and  mind 
is  because  so  many  new  things  thereby  come  in  to  claim 
the  attention  and  divert  it  from  its  former  objects. 

The  following  expression  from  Dr.  Tuke  should  be  re- 
membered :  "Thought  strongly  directed  to  any  part  tends 
to  increase  its  vascularity,  and  consequently  its  sensibility." 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE  CULTIVATION   OF  THE  WILL. 

Habit.  — Animals  are  born  with  instinct.     Habit  is  the 

*>'  result  of  acquisition.     The  most  important  of  all  tasks  for 

the  will  is  the  formation  of  correct  habits.     Good  habits 

are  always  formed  under  an  effort  of  will.     Weeds  alone 

grow  without  cultivation. 

Man's  nervous  system  possesses,  early  in  life,  a  rare 
capacity  for  modification  or  adaptability,  which  renders 
possible  the  great  variety  in  human  life  and  effort.  The 
tendencies  of  the  muscles  and  the  nerves  to  respond  to  the 
stimuli  of  life  are  altered.  This  is  a  known  fact,  whether 
it  is  due  to  altered  molecular  arrangement  or  to  some  other 
cause.  We  may  not  be  able  to  give  a  scientific  explana- 
tion why  cloth  folds  more  readily  a  second  time  where 
it  has  once  been  folded,  but  we  may  accept  the  fact  and 
act  upon  it. 

Recent  psychology  has  done  much  practical  good  in 
calling  attention  to  the  plasticity  of  nervous  matter  early 
in  life,  and  in  showing  that  the  longer  one  defers  the 
formation  of  a  desired  habit,  the  harder  will  be  the  strug- 
gle required,  until  finally  the  task  will  be  practically  im- 
possible. The  analogy  between  the  plasticity  of  nerve 
and  brain  and  that  of  plaster  of  Paris  has  often  been 
pointed  out.  The  freshly  mixed  plaster  can  easily  be 
molded  at  will,  as  can  a  youthful  brain  and  nerves. 
Persons  after  the  age  of  thirty  seldom  radically  change 

348 


THE  CULTIVATION   OF  THE   WILL.  349 

their  habits ;  indeed,  the  age  of  twenty  finds  most  of  our 
habits  already  outlined  as  they  are  to  remain  for  life. 
The  boor  at  that  age  will  continue  to  have  boorish  pecu- 
liarities. Errors  in  grammar  will  slip  automatically  from 
the  tongue.  The  doctor,  the  lawyer,  the  clergyman,  the 
business  man,  the  teacher,  soon  acquire  the  peculiar  habits 
of  their  professions.  If  we  do  not  get  into  the  right  voca- 
tion early  in  life,  we  are  caught  in  the  vise  of  habits  ill- 
adapted  for  a  change.  Our  very  ways  of  looking  at  things 
have  become  crystallized.  If  we  put  off  learning  new  sub- 
jects, we  shall  remain  ignorant  of  them. 

An  anonymous  writer  in  Harper's  Bazar  states  a  truth, 
the  acceptance  of  which  would  remove  considerable  trouble 
in  many  cases  :  "  The  effort  to  remodel  the  character  of  a 
grown  woman  is  a  hopeless  and  thankless  task,  that  can 
only  bring  misery  to  subject  and  operators."  Precisely 
the  same  thing  is  true  of  a  grown  man.  After  habit  has 
cast  him  in  her  iron  mold,  the  chances  of  his  changing 
are  so  slight  that  they  may  be  neglected  in  computing  his 
future  orbit:  Statisticians  tell  us  that,  out  of  a  thousand  I 
drunkards  who  try  to  reform,  only  three  permanently  aban-fl 
don  the  vicious  habit.  The  rest  slide  back  sooner  or  later. 

These  lines  of  Professor  Romanes  are  worthy  a  place  in 
the  memory  :— 

"  No  change  in  childhood's  early  day, 

No  storm  that  raged,  no  thought  that  ran, 
But  leaves  a  track  upon  the  clay, 
Which  slowly  hardens  into  man." 

Formation  of  a  New  Habit.  —  It  is  possible  to  frame 
certain  practical  rules  which  will  aid  one  in  acquiring  a 
desired  habit:  — 

(i)    Put  all  the  motor  force   possible  into  the  actions 


350  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

you  desire  to  make  habitual.  If  you  wish  to  remedy  a 
stoop  in  the  shoulders,  innervate  the  muscles  as  vigorously 
as  possible.  Keep  firmly  in  consciousness  the  motor  idea 
of  forcing  the  shoulders  back.  If  the  idea  vanishes,  recall 
it,  and  keep  the  voluntary  act  of  attention  busy.  If  you 
wish  to  repress  a  habit  of  constantly  clearing  the  throat, 
innervate  the  muscles  of  the  throat,  and  hold  the  proper 
motor  idea  before  the  mind. 

(2)  Allow  as  few  ideas  as  possible  of  other  things  to 
absorb  the  attention,  while  you  are  laying  the  foundations 
of  a  habit.  Will  is  always  definite  and  has  for  its  object 
one  central  idea.  This  idea  should,  of  course,  be  ree'n- 
forced  with  kindred  ideas,  such  as  ideas  of  the  advantages 
which  will  in  the  end  result  from  this  habit.  Banish  all 
ideas  which  suggest  temptation  to  break  the  habit.  If  a 
man  wishes  to  give  up  drinking,  he  should  at  first  avoid 
passing  a  saloon,  for  it  may  recall  a  throng  of  ideas  which 
would  develop  a  desire  too  strong  to  be  resisted.  He 
should  avoid  company  that  would  suggest  to  him  the 
pleasure  of  taking  a  drink.  A  boy  who  wishes  to  form 
a  habit  of  studiousness  ought  not,  as  he  starts  to  get 
his  lessons,  to  pass  through  a  group  of  boys  setting  out 
to  play.  They  may  urge  him  to  come  to  complete  a 
baseball  nine  or  to  join  in  some  frolic,  and  he  may 
yield. 

Many  a  person  has  stood  firm  only  because  he  ran  away 
from  dangerous  ideas.  The  companions  of  Ulysses  were 
wise  to  stop  their  ears  with  wax,  so  as  not  to  hear  the 
songs  of  the  Sirens.  Ulysses  heard,  and  his  desire  to  go 
to  them  overmastered  him.  Had  he  not  been  forcibly 
restrained,  he  would  have  perished.  Once  out  of  hearing, 
he  was  a  man  again.  This  fable  is  applicable  to  all  life. 
In  one  way  or  another,  certain  ideas  must  be  kepf.  out 


THE  CULTIVATION   OF  THE  WILL.  351 

of  the  mind.  He  only  "jests  at  scars  who  never  felt  a 
wound."  Those  who  have  run  the  gauntlet  of  strong 
temptations  do  not  laugh  at  their  power.  It  takes  more 
effort  of  will  to  turn  away  from  some  ideas  than  to  face 
them,  and  the  coward  is  sometimes  he  who  remains  on 
the  scene. 

(3)  Every  time  there  is  a  chance,  repeat  the  action  to 
be  made  habitual.     Suppose  one  wishes  to  form  a  habit  of 
mental  concentration.     He  reads  one  page  with  tense  at- 
tention.    If  he  then  reads  the  next  six  pages  with  relaxed 
effort,  he  is  going  backward  in  forming  the  desired  habit. 
A  good  habit  was  never  the  result  of  such  intermittent 
effort.     There  must  be  continuously  the  same  attention. 
When  the  mind  gets  tired,  some  other  work  should  be 
taken  up.     Only  in  this  way  can  one  progress  in  forming 
a  good  habit     Failure  to  observe  this  will  cause  retrogres- 
sion. 

(4)  The  beginning  of  the  formation  of  a  habit  is  a  very 
critical  time.     No  exception  must  be   allowed   until   the 
habit  has  gained  considerable  headway.     The  person  who 
smokes  a  very  choice  cigar  with   friends,  after  he   has 
promised  to  stop ;  the  drinker  who,  like  Rip  Van  Winkle, 
takes  another  glass,  saying  that  he  will  not  count  this 
one,  has  not  the  faintest  conception  of  the  law  of  habit. 

The  law  of  invariable  association  is  the  foundation  on 
which  habit  is  built.  If  a  person  wishing  to  learn  the  alpha- 
bet said  a,  b,  c,  to-day ;  to-morrow,  a,  c,  b ;  the  next  day,  c , 
a,  b,  —  he  would  never  know  the  letters  in  any  fixed  order. 
From  one  point  of  view,  habit  is  association  by  contiguity, 
and  hence  the  association  must  be  invariable  in  order  to 
be  depended  on.  Sometimes  persons  who  will  not  put 
things  in  their  places  try  to  cultivate  a  habit  of  order.  For 
two  days  everything  is  put  in  place.  On  the  third  day 


352  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

they  are  in  a  hurry  because  they  rose  too  late,  and  there  is 
the  former  disorder.  If  they  had  realized  the  seriousness 
of  the  situation,  they  would  have  been  called  an  hour 
before  time  rather  than  allow  an  exception  to  occur  the 
third  day.  It  has  been  well  said  that  when  a  ball  of  cord, 
which  one  is  winding  up,  is  allowed  to  fall,  more  is  un- 
wound than  many  separate  windings  can  replace.  So  it 
is  with  habit;  a  single  omission  cannot  be  remedied  in  a 
day  or  a  week.  A  business  man  once  neglected  to  keep 
with  some  associates  an  appointment  relative  to  the  for- 
mation of  a  new  company.  He  made  an  excuse  that  it 
was  too  hot.  They  very  properly  left  him  out  of  the 
organization,  because  they  wanted  only  those  who  could 
be  depended  on. 

If  the  above  rules  are  faithfully  applied  for  a  consid- 
erable time,  habit  will  finally  become  organic  memory.  A 
person  can  then,  without  conscious  effort,  act  unerringly  in 
the  direction  indicated  by  such  a  habit.  To  do  a  thing 
improperly  will  then  cause  a  struggle,  because  it  will  be 
hard  to  break  a  fixed  habit  of  doing  things  right,  and  the 
mind  will  be  left  free  for  progress  in  other  directions. 
The  habit  works  automatically,  and  the  attention  can  be 
centered  elsewhere. 

Deliberation  an  Essential  Factor  in  the  Right  Culture  of 
the  Will.  —  No  scheme  of  will  culture  which  does  not 
insist  on  deliberation  is  of  much  account.  This  does  not 
mean  that  the  same  action  must  be  repeatedly  deliberated 
over  whenever  it  comes  up.  One  process  of  careful  delib- 
eration at  the  outset  may  be  enough.  Some  persons 
make  every  trivial  affair,  such  as  deciding  whether  to  go 
to  a  picnic  or  to  stay  at  home,  sickly  with  the  "  pale  cast  of 
thought,"  but  youth  is  generally  too  rash  to  need  any 


THE  CULTIVATION  OF  THE  WILL.  353 


caution  in  this  direction.  Action  without  thqught  will,  in 
ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a  hundred,  land  the  doer  in 
trouble,  unless  the  act  is  the  result  of  a  correct' y  formed 
habit,  which  had  deliberation  at  its  initial  stage. 

Many  men  of  great  activity  have  been  the  most  success- 
ful of  their  generation,  because  their  activity  has  been 
coupled  with  far-reaching  foresight.  Others,  with  activities 
equally  great,  have  never  recovered  from  some  early  rash 
misstep.  Every  small  panic  or  fluctuation  in  the  money 
market  catches  scores  of  these  men,  because  they  rushed 
into  some  investment  which  a  little  deliberation  would 
have  shown  to  be  unsafe  in  a  state  of  financial  depression. 
This  truth  is  embodied  in  the  proverbs  :  "  Look  before  you 
leap,"  and  "  Be  sure  you  are  right,  then  go  ahead." 

A  habit  of  deliberation  in  cases  of  violent  emotion  is 
a  difficult  one  to  form.  When  one  feels  strongly,  the 
motor  idea  is  often  followed  immediately  by  motor  action. 
A  fit  of  anger  has  escaped  us  before  we  were  aware.  We 
have  said  something  that  we  shall  regret  all  our  lives 
before  we  could  seem  to  apply  the  brakes  to  speech. 
The  only  safeguard  against  these  sudden  motor  out- 
breaks is  to  be  continually  on  the  lookout  for  the  pro- 
voking causes,  and  to  have  the  brakes  of  repression 
half  applied  before  the  cause  is  operative.  The  habit 
of  being  watchful  and  of  applying  motor  inhibition  will 
soon  begin  to  form,  and  the  task  will  grow  constantly 
easier.  In  other  cases,  where  the  emotion  is  of  slower 
growth,  the  attention  must  be  drawn  away  from  the 
emotion-provoking  idea  before  it  grows  too  strong. 

The  truth  is  important,  that  one  must  learn  to  think  in 
order  to  cultivate  will  power  correctly.    Man  has  improved 
faster  than  the  beasts,  because  his  voluntary  acts  have  been 
guided  by  progressive  thought  toward  higher  ends. 
HALLECK'S  PSYC.  —  23 


- 


354  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

The  Two  Factors  in  the  Rise  and  the  Decline  of  a 
Tendency  to  Voluntary  Action.  —  We  may  call  the  first  the 
motor  factor,  i.e.,  that  voluntary  power  which  rouses  or 
represses  the  muscular  expression  of  emotion.  We  know 
that  animals,  barbarians,  and  children  generally  allow 
motor  discharge  without  inhibition,  and  that  control 
comes  in  some  way  or  other  with  culture.  With  refer- 
ence to  the  first  factor,  Professor  H  off  ding  says :  "  Even 
if  we  cannot  prevent  a  feeling  from  arising,  we  may 
possibly  prevent  it  from  spreading,  by  inhibiting  the 
organic  movement  which  accompanies  it,  and  indulgence 
in  which  augments  it." 

The  second  is  the  ideational  factor,  and  that  is  the  more 
powerful  with  cultivated  persons,  because  action  grows  to 
be  more  and  more  the  result  of  ideas.  We  saw  that  the 
actions  of  men  were  grounded  upon  some  desire  or  aver- 
sion. It  should  always  be  remembered  that  desire  gains 
strength  from  keeping  the  mind  filled  with  ideas  of 
the  desired  object,  and  that  desire  of  forbidden  things 
frequently  becomes  so  strong  as  to  master  the  will.  In 
such  a  case,  the  task  of  the  will  is  to  weaken  the  desire 
at  the  start  by  withdrawing  the  attention  from  the  foster- 
ing ideas. 

Tenacity  of  Attention.  —  From  what  has  already  been 
said,  it  can  be  inferred  that  tenacious  attention  is  one  of 
the  strongest  factors  in  a  cultivated  will.  Some  modern 
psychologists  insist  that  attention  is  the  only  power  of  the 
will.  Be  that  as  it  may,  it  is  hardly  possible  to  overesti- 
mate the  importance  of  tenacious  attention.  A  man  with 
half  the  natural  ability  of  some  geniuses  often  accomplishes 
far  more,  because  he  keeps  his  attention  undivided  on 
one  thing  until  he  has  mastered  it.  They  might  have 


THE  CULTIVATION   OF  THE  WILL.  355 

learned  it  in  half  the  time,  had  they  been  equally  atten- 
tive. Their  genius  scorned  the  restraint  of  attention.  The 
butterfly  element  in  their  nature  demanded  a  large  meadow 
and  many  flowers.  The  movements  of  a  butterfly  are 
quicker  and  more  pleasing  to  watch  than  an  ant's,  but  the 
latter  lays  up  more  for  winter.  Of  course  when  a  genius 
exercises  the  power  of  undivided  attention,  he  will  surpass 
those  of  less  ability ;  but  the  fable  of  how  the  tortoise  beat 
the  hare  was  suggested  by  the  success  of  plodding  atten- 
tion. 

The  man  who  can  hold  uninteresting  ideas  before  his 
mind  until  they  gather  interest,  is  the  man  who  is  going 
to  succeed.  Charles  Dickens  said  that  the  reason  of  his 
success  consisted  in  throwing  his  entire  attention  into 
whatever  he  happened  to  be  doing,  no  matter  how  quickly 
that  might  be  succeeded  by  something  else. 

The  only  way  to  cultivate  attention  is  by  a  continuous 
effort  of  will.  If  the  attention  wanders  from  any  subject 
for  ninety-nine  consecutive  times,  bring  the  attention  back 
ninety-nine  consecutive  times.  Make  an  effort  to  concen- 
trate the  mental  powers  each  time.  If  lack  of  attention 
springs  from  weariness,  rest.  A  habit  of  attention  will 
surely  grow  in  this  way.  When  a  young  colt  is  first 
broken,  he  wants  to  run  from  one  side  of  the  street  to 
the  other,  to  keep  anywhere  except  in  the  proper  place. 
After  the  colt  has  been  pulled  back  many  times  by  the 
bit,  he  finally  learns  to  keep  the  middle  of  the  road. 
Attention  is  like  the  colt.  Every  young  person  ought 
to  add  to  his  list  of  maxims :  With  all  thy  cultivating, 
cultivate  attention. 

Feeling  and  Decision  without  Action.  —  The  oaciesf  way 

to  ruin  the  will  is  to  suffer  emotions  to  evaporate  without 


356  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   PSYCHIC.  CULTURE. 


leading    tO    aCtlOIL.  t.O..  framP   rWicirmc    3^    f^^r.    nnt- 


them.  The  will  and  the  character  are  very  speedily 
ruined  in  this  way.  From  a  moral  point  of  view,  those 
persons  are  exceedingly  contemptible  who  are  always 
"  going  tv_  do "  something,  but  who  never  do  it ;  so  are 
also  those  who  "will  with  reasons  answer  you"  in  regard 
tp  why  they  have  done  nothing. 

/"A  remarkably  successful  business  man  said  he  had 
divided  all  persons  into  two  classes  :  those  who  did  what 
they  had  promised  or  were  directed  to  do,  and  those  who 
returned  with  some  reason  why  they  had  not  done  it. 
When  he  employed  persons,  he  always  set  them  a  certain 
hard  task  at  the  outset.  If  they  returned  with  a  reason 
why  they  had  not  done  it,  he  dismissed  them.  In  this  way 
he  surrounded  himself  with  an  unusually  fine  set  of  em- 
ployees on  whom  he  could  depend. 

After  one  has  formed  a  decision  with  the  proper  delib- 
eration, he  should  not  fail  to  act  on  that  decision  except 
for  a  newly  discovered  reason  of  the  gravest  sort.  To 
do  otherwise  is  to  sink  a  mine  under  the  citadel  of  the 
will.  Musical  gratification  and  novel  reading  are  respon- 
sible for  innumerable  ruined  wills.  Music  often  helps  to 
ruin  the  will  because  strong  emotions  are  raised  and 
allowed  to  subside  without  action.  In  one  of  our  large 
cities  a  lady  was  recently  moved  to  tears  by  some  piteous 
operatic  music.  That  week  the  little  child  of  her  cook 
died.  Proper  nursing  might  have  saved  it.  The  lady 
had  been  appealed  to.  She  was  sorry,  and  she  was 
"going  to  do"  something  for  it;  but  inactivity  followed 
the  emotion  of  sorrow.  Music  sometimes  touches  every 
emotional  chord  in  our  natures.  The  mournful  strings 
are  swept,  and  we  seem  to  feel,  in  one  rapidly  rising  emo- 
,  all  the  sorrow  that  any  of  earth's  creatures  has  ever 


THE  CULTIVATION  OF  THE   WILL.  357 

known.  The  notes  sound  full  and  strong,  and  we  feel  that 
the  whole  world  is  plastic  in  our  hands.  This  feeling 
evaporates  without  outcome  in  action.  We  thus  habit- 
uate ourselves  to  emotion  and  desire,  without  acting  on 
them.  The  promptings  of  music  might  result  in  some- 
thing other  than  fine  selfish  gratification,  if,  fired  by  a 
noble  emotion  which  the  music  aroused,  we  went  out  into 
the  world  and  did  noble  deeds.  Some  pqwer  is  needed  to 
ut  it  had  far  better  not  h»  "tigfj,  tf  fr 


rines^nnt  end  in 

The  results  of  fiction  are  equally  bad,  unless  its 
promptings  are  .  responded  to  by  the  will.  There  is  an 
oft-quoted  example  of  a  Russian  lady  who  wept  over  the 
sufferings  of  a  fictitious  character  in  the  play,  while  her 
coachman  was  freezing  to  death  on  her  carriage  out- 
side the  theater.  There  are  a  thousand  who  feel  sorry 
for  suffering,  to  one  who  acts  energetically  to  relieve  it. 
A  maxim  for  every  one  ought  to  be  :  Never  frame  a  good 
decision,  never  experience  a  glow  of  fine  emotion,  without  a 
strong  endeavor  to  respond  by  action  in  the  proper  way. 

Tempering  the  Will  along  the  Line  of  the  Greatest 
Resistance.  —  Nothing  schools  the  will,  and  renders  it 
ready  for  effort  in  this  complex  world,  better  than  accus- 
toming it  to  face  disagreeable  things.  Professor  James 
advises  all  to  do  something  occasionally  for  no  other 
reason  than  that  they  would  rather  not  do  it,  if  it  is 
nothing  more  than  giving  up  a  seat  in  a  street  car.  He 
likens  such  effort  to  the  insurance  that  a  man  pays  on 
his  house.  He  has  something  that  he  can  fall  back  on 
in  time  of  trouble.  A  will  schooled  in  this  way  is  always 
ready  to  respond,  no  matter  how  great  the  emergency. 
While  another  would  be  still  crying  over  spilled  milk, 

1 


358  PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

the  possessor  of  such  a  will  has  already  begun  to  milk 
another  cow. 

When  Napoleon  found  the  Alps  in  his  way,  he  scaled 
them  while  another  general  would  have  been  lamenting 
the  obstruction.  No  general  ever  had  a  more  energetic 
and  better  trained  will.  He  had  it  under  such  control,  that 
he  could  enter  on  a  line  of  disagreeable  effort,  involving 
great  hardships,  with  no  seeming  struggle.  Quick  and 
severe  effort  is  never  easy  for  any  one.  Few  have  the 
will  to  undertake  it,  but  Napoleon  moved  with  such  energy 
that  he  never  failed  to  carry  the  war  into  the  enemy's 
country.  Even  Waterloo  was  not  fought  -on  French  soil. 
Julius  Caesar,  Oliver  Cromwell,  George  Washington,  ancT 
all  other  world-famous  men  have  been  the  possessors  of 
wills  that  acted  in  the  line,  of  the  greatest  resistance, 
with  as  much  seeming  ease  as  if  the  action  were  agree^ 
able. 

The  only  way  to  secure  such  a  will  is  to  practice  doing 
disagreeable  things.  There  are  daily  opportunities.  Visit- 
ing the  sick  furnishes  an  opportunity  to  those  who  dislike 
it.  A  man,  who  had  declared  his  aversion  to  what  he 
termed  the  dry  facts  of  political  economy,  was  one  day 
found  knitting  his  brow  over  a  chapter  of  John  Stuart  Mill. 
When  a  friend  expressed  surprise,  the  man  replied :  "  I 
am  playing  the  schoolmaster  with  myself.  I  am  reading 
this  because  I  dislike  it."  Such  a  man  has  the  elements  of 
success  in  him.  Let  a  person,  the  moment  he  finds  a  worcf\ 
of  whose  meaning  or  pronunciation  he  is  not  sure,  start  for 
the  dictionary.  He  need  not  despise  so  simple  an  act  as 
this,  for  the  effort  against  the  tendency  to  put  off  looking 
up  a  word  until  it  is  forgotten  keeps  the  will  from  rusting^ 
On  the  other  hand,  the  one  who  habitually  avoids  disagree- 
able action  is  training  his  will  to  be  of  no  use  to  him  at  a 


THE   CULTIVATION   OF  THE  WILL.  359 

time  when  supreme  effort  is  demanded.     Such  a  will  can 
never  elbow  its  way  to  the  front  in  life. 

Individuality  and  the  Development  of  Character.  —  Per- 
sons of  character  always  have  well-cultivated  wills.  Life's 
duties  are  certain  to  involve  doing  disagreeable  things, 
and  this  takes  will  power.  An  unstable  man  can  never 
be._a-  person  of  character.  Stability  is  founded  upon  will. 
Stability  demands  the  following  of  a  definite,  and  often 
difficult,  consistent  line  of  conduct,  the  swerving  neither 
to  the  right  nor  to  the  left.  The  man  who  is  honest  oT 
punctual  or  diligent  by  fits  and  starts  will  never  occupy  a 
high  place  among  his  fellow  men,  for  they  will  soon  see 
that  he  lacks  character.  The  tremendous  competition  m 
life  is  felt  less  by  men  of  character,  for  there  are  scarcely 
enough  of  these  to  fill  positions  that  demand  such  men. 
Rvery  avenue  of  life  is  thronged  by  those  uncertain  crea- 
tures, whose  conduct  and  actions  are  a  mere  reflection  of 
their  surroundings.  Such  persons  waste  time  in  drinking, 
card  playing,  or  some  other  form  of  dissipation.  It  was  an- 
nounced, during  the  late  financial  depression,  that  a  cer- 
tain man  had  failed.  "  No,  that  is  impossible,"  said  the 
president  of  a  large  corporation ;  "  his  character  and  will 
power  are  worth  a  million  dollars,  and  I  shall  gladly 
employ  him  if  he  will  come  to  me." 

Again,  character  demands  that  any  certain  desirable  line 
of  ideas  should  be  kept  before  the  mind  until  they  domi- 
nate it.  A  person  can  have  individuality  only  along  some 
given  line,  which  implies  long-continued  study  and  much 
mental  concentration.  The  self  is  a  bundle  of  such  mental 
states  as  persist,  and  recur  again  and  again.  Where  there 
is  no  capacity  for  continuous,  and  continually  recurring, 
mental  states,  there  can  be  no  individuality,  no  persistent 


360  PSYCHOLOGY  AND    PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 

self,  no  fixed  character.  Rattle-brained  persons,  gossips, 
and  other  fickle  creatures  cannot  be  properly  said  to  have 
any  individual  self.  Nor  will  any  one  acquire  individuality 
by  now  studying  a  little  mathematics,  or  astronomy,  or 
geology,  now  skimming  over  a  few  selections  of  English 
or  French  literature,  now  beginning  the  study  of  German 
or  drawing,  but  stopping  the  moment  it  becomes  hard, 
the  moment  it  begins  to  build  up  real  individuality.  It 
is  the  function  of  a  well-trained  will  to  adhere  to  a  given 
line  of  conduct  or  ideas,  until  they  have  become  an  integral 
part  of  the  self.  Only  those  ideas  which  are  so  absorbed 
become  valuable  elements  of  the  character. 

We  are  coins,  the  metal  of  which  has  been  dug  from  the 
mines  of  our  inborn  intellectual  and  moral  faculties  by  the 
will  power.     If  we  properly  work  these  mines,  we  may  find 
metal  enough  in  us  to  justify  a  stamp  of  a  very  high  value. 
On  the  other  hand,  though  there  is  much  unmined  metal 
beneath  the  surface,  we  often  form  a  character  marked 
with  a  penny  stamp.     It  may  be  true  that  circumstancesV\ 
stamp  us  to  a  certain  extent,  but  it  is  also  true  that  the  \\ 
way  in  which  we  use  them  stamps  us  indelibly.  -* 


INDEX 


ABSTRACT  ideas,  188-190. 

Abstraction,  184. 

^Esthetic  emotion,  262-268. 

a  resultant,  266. 

associative  elements  in,  129,  130, 
265. 

culture  of,  289. 

intellectual  elements  in,  264,  265. 

sensuous  element  in,  263. 

variations  in,  267. 

Agassiz's  method  of  cultivating  per- 
ception, 94-96. 

Allen,  Grant,  quoted,  245,  264,  290. 
Altruistic  emotion,  257-259. 

culture  of,  288. 

development  of,  288. 

in  morals,  270-272. 
Analogy,  228. 
Animal  intelligence,  205-213. 

contrasted  with  humr.n,  213,  214. 
Ant,  intelligence  of,  209,  210. 
Apperception,  84-87. 

biases  ideas,  85,  219. 

defined,  84. 

important  truths  of,  85-87. 

physical  analogy  to,  37,  62,  63. 
Association  of  ideas,  111-131. 

a   factor   in    developing    emotion, 
260. 

application  of,   in  cultivating   the 
memory,  136-148. 

by  cerebral  contiguity,  117. 

by  contiguity,  114,  122,  136,  212, 

213.  35'- 
by  contrast,  121. 
by  correlation,  121,  122,  138. 
by  emotional  preference,  1 23. 
by  repetition,  123. 
by  similarity,  115,  118,  121. 
changeable,  125. 


Association  of  ideas,  determines  fash- 
ion, 129,  130. 

in  aesthetic  emotion,  265. 

in  dreams,  127. 

obscure,  112,  119. 

physical  basis  of,  112,  113. 

power  of,  128-131. 

primary  law  of,  114-118. 

reasoning  by,  211. 

secondary  laws  of,  119-126;   138- 
148. 

time  required  for,  42. 

volitional,  126. 
Attention,  52-55. 

and  interest,  54. 

and  memory,  146. 

and  sensation,  55,  64. 

cultivation  of,  355. 

develops   motor   power   in   ideas. 

3'5- 

direction  of,  53. 
factors  in,  53. 

fatigues  brain  cells,  54,  248,  276. 
importance  of,  55,  92,  126. 
inconstant,  54. 
increases  feeling,  248. 
laws  of,  54,  55,  248. 
reflex,  53. 

voluntary,  54,  55,  315. 
Automatism,  49,  60,  303. 

BELIEF,  220,  221. 

Blackie,  J.  S.,  quoted,  138,  139. 

Brain,  21-29. 

area  of,  28. 

auditory  center  in,  25. 

automatic  action  of,  in  perception, 

77- 
cells    of,   broken    down    by  pain, 

243- 


362 


PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 


Brain,  connective  fibers  in,  113,  117. 
cortex  of,  26. 
decadence  of,  28. 
effect  of  mental  action  on,  27,  64. 
effect  of  repetition  on,  133. 
growth  of,  28. 
gustatory  center  in,  26. 
landmarks  of,  23. 
lobes  of,  23. 
localization  in,  23-26. 
motor  center  in,  24. 
number  of  cells  in,  103. 
olfactory  center  in,  26. 
optical  center  in,  25. 
plasticity  in  youth,  28,  104. 
quality    of    sensation    determined 

according  to  receiving  locality 

in,  62. 

quickness  of  action  of,  41,  42,  77. 
tactile  center  in,  25. 
unconscious  working  of,  44,  128. 
Brodie,  Sir  Benjamin,  quoted,  161. 

CASTLE-BUILDING,  178. 

Cause  and  effect,  203,  205-207,  343. 

Cerebellum',  20. 

Character,  formation  of,  232,  236,  338- 

34i.  359.  3°°- 

Children's  imagination,  154,  157. 
Children's  reasoning,  215. 
Choice,  324. 

Classification,  illustrated  by  diagram 
of  mental  powers,  51. 

in  cultivation  of  thought,  226. 

of  emotions,  253. 

of  mental  powers,  49-51. 

of  types  of  action,  ^DI. 
Coleridge,  S.  T.,  quoted,  174. 
Comparison,  214-220,  227,  234,  261. 
Complexity  of  knowledge,  56,  57. 
Contrast,  necessary  for  enjoyment,  280, 

293- 
Concept,  183-191. 

abstraction  in  the,  184. 
changes  in  the,  186. 
comparison  in  the,  184. 
contrasted  with  image,  187. 
denomination  in  the,  185. 
faulty,  1 86. 

formation  of,  183-185,  224. 
forming  a,  in  actual  life,  185. 
generalization  in  the,  185. 


Concept,  perception  in  the,  183. 
Conscience,  theories  of,  270. 
Consciousness,  43-52. 

activity   outside,   44,   48,  77,  163, 
300. 

defined,  44. 

difference  in  states  of,  49. 

exists  for  a  purpose,  305,  344. 

Huxley,  T.  H.,  on,  45. 

mystery  of,  45. 

necessity  of  study  of,  46,  47. 

of  self,  45,  69,  70. 
Constructive  imagination,  156-158. 
Contiguity,  law  of,  114,  136,  319,  351. 
Contradiction,  law  of,  201. 
Contrast,  in  association,  1 21. 

in  emotion,  280. 

in  feeling,  246. 
Cook,  Joseph,  quoted,  146. 
Contagion  of  emotion,  283-284. 
Correlation,  law  of,  121,  122,  138. 
Crow,  intelligence  of,  208,  209. 
Cultivation,  of  attention,  355. 

of  emotion,  285-298. 

of  imagination,  166-179. 

of  memory,  132-149. 

of  oerception,  89-100. 

of  sympathy,  177,  257-259. 

of  the  nervous  system,  28,  29,  108, 
133.  289,  338,  348-352. 

of  thought,  222-238. 

of  will,  348-360. 

DECISION,  324. 

Deduction,  199,  216. 

Definition,  45,  225. 

Denomination,  185. 

Desire,  320-323. 

Dissociation,  152. 

Distance,  judgments  concerning,  58. 

Dog,  intelligence  of,  208,  214. 

Dreams,  127,  128. 

EAR,  38.     (See  also  Hearing.) 
Ebbinghaus's  experiments  with  mem- 
ory, 144. 

Egoistic  emotion,  255,  256. 
Emotion,  249-284.     (See  also  Feel- 
ing-) 

aesthetic,  262-268. 
altruistic,  257-259,  288. 
bodily  feeling  in,  250,  253. 


INDEX. 


363 


Emotion,  changeableness  of,  276. 

classification  of,  253. 

compared  with  feeling,  249,  253. 

conspiring  and  conflicting,  277. 

contrast  necessary  for  development 
of,  280. 

defined,  249. 

developed  by  association  of  ideas, 
260. 

effect  of,  upon  intellectual  action, 
278. 

egoistic,  255. 

expression  of,  251,  287. 

factors  determining  rise  and  decline 
of,  274-276. 

feeling  present  in,  249. 

general  truths  of,  272-284. 

hygienic  aspects  of,  281-284. 

ideas  best  fitted  to  raise,  279. 

instinctive  tendencies  to,  272-274. 

intellectual,  259-262. 

moral,  268-272. 

of  the  ludicrous,  261. 

produced  by  muscular  expression, 
252. 

sympathetic  contagion  of,  283 
Emotion,  cultivation  of,  285-298. 

by  active  will,  287. 

by  aesthetic  improvement,  289. 

by  attending  to  appropriate  ideas, 
286. 

by  controlling  physical  expression, 
287,  354- 

by  forming  correct  emotional  hab- 
its, 285. 

by  inhibition,  287,  329. 

by  literature,  290. 

by  practising  altruism,  258. 

by  seeking  proper  enjoyment,  290- 
298. 

time  for,  296. 

Enjoyment,  290-298.    (See  also  Pleas- 
ure.) 

as  object  of  life,  291,  295. 

contrast  necessary  for,  293. 

extinction  of  taste  for,  297,  298. 

factors  in,  292. 

necessity  for  early,  296. 

pretensions  fatal  to,  294. 

stored   force   necessary   for,    241- 
">\j[. 

unconscious  influences  in,  274. 


Environment,  339,  340,  360. 
Ethics,  268-272,  344,  345. 
Everett,  Edward,  quoted,  168. 
Excluded  middle,  law  of,  201. 
Expression  of  emotion,  251,  252,  287, 

354- 

Extension,  190. 
Eyet  33-     (See  also  Sight.) 
muscles  of,  34. 

FACULTIES,  mental,  49-52. 

all,  represented  in  a  complete  men- 
tal act,  51. 
Fashions  determined   by  association, 

129,  130. 

Fechner's  law,  65. 

Feeling,    239-249.     (See   also   Emo- 
tion.) 

attention  directed  toward,  248. 

compared  with  emotion,  249,  253. 

contrast  in,  246. 

correspondence  of,  to  stimulus,  245. 

denned,  239,  249. 

difference  in,  240. 

different  from  sensation,  239,  240. 

ideal,  246,  248. 

importance  of,  240. 

intensity  of,  245,  246. 

neutral,  239,  241. 

painful,  241-245. 

peculiarly  subjective,  240. 

pleasurable,  241-244. 

quality  of,  241,  247. 

quantitative  aspects  of,  245,  248. 

relation  of,  to  emotion,  249,  253. 

sensuous,  246,  263. 

sensuous    contrasted    with    ideal, 
246,  247. 

GALTON,  Sir  Francis,  quoted,  135. 
Ganglia,  15,  1 8. 
Generalization,  185. 

HABIT,  348-352. 

a  product  of  contiguous  associa- 
tion, 351. 

as  a  result  of  voluntary  process,  337. 

as  organic  memory,  352. 

easily  formed  in  youth,  348,  349. 

physiological  explanation  of,  338. 

rules  for  forming  a,  349-352. 
Hallucination,  88. 
Hearing,  37-39,  60,  78. 


PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC   CULTURE. 


Heredity,  339,  340. 

Hoffding,  H.,  quoted,  40,  163,  246, 
308,  325,  354. 

Horse,  intelligence  of,  208. 

Houdin's  methods  for  cultivating  per- 
ception, 89,  100. 

Humor,  262. 

Huxley,  T.  H.,  quoted,  45. 

Hypnotism,  54,  108,  319. 

IDEALS,  formation  of,  176,  179. 
Ideas,  abstract,  188,  189. 

and  attention,  315. 

are  mental  objects,  47. 

as  symbolic  images,  107. 

best  fitted  to  raise  emotion,  279. 

motor  element  in,  315-318. 

not  literal  copies  of  existing  things, 

ISI- 

powerful    in    raising    feeling    and 
emotion,  246,  248,  275. 

precede  all  progress,  47. 
Identity,  200,  225,  237. 
Illusion,  87,  88. 

aural,  39. 

due  to  activity  of  brain  cells,  88, 
108,  109. 

due  to  misinterpretation   of  phe- 
nomena, 63,  70,  87. 

gustatory,  80. 

optical,  37,  75. 

primary,  37,  62,  63,  87. 

thermal,  32. 
Images,  106-108,  152,  169. 

contrasted  with  concepts,  187. 

relation    of,  to    reality,   108,   109, 

152. 

thinking  by,  175,  188. 
Imagination,  150-179. 
abuse  of,  178. 
combining  power  of,  154. 
constructive,  156-158. 
definition  of,  150,  151. 
depends    primarily   upon    percep- 
tion, 158. 

different  products  of,  154,  155. 
direction  of,  160. 
influence  of,  on  body,  163. 
in  perception,  150. 
in  scientific  investigation,  161. 
limits  of,  159. 
mechanical,  156. 


Imagination,  motor,  334. 

not  absolutely  distinguishable  from 

memory,  151. 
of  practical  service,  1 66. 
power  of,  to  diminish  and  enlarge, 

155; 

separating  power  of,  154. 

twoclassesof  images  formed  by,  152. 

two  uses  of  the  term,  151. 

unconscious  process  in,  162. 
Imagination,  cultivation  of,  166-179. 

by  clear  cut  images,  169. 

by  completing   unfinished  stories, 
172. 

by  forming  an  ideal,  176,  179. 

by  forming  original  images,  173. 

by  oral  description,  171. 

by  pictorial  interpretation,  1 70. 

by  writing,  1 72. 

common  materials  for,  168. 

in  sympathy,  177,  258. 

in  the  Elizabethan  age,  174. 

in  thinking  by  images,  175. 

requires  abundant  perception,  1 66. 
Imitative  action,  319. 
Impulsive  action,  301,  307-309. 
Individuality,  232. 
Induction,  195-199' 

danger  in  hasty,  198. 

guiding  principle  in,  199. 

perfect  and  imperfect,  197. 
Infinite,  the,  160. 
Inhibition,  327-33°.  353- 
Innate  ideas,  206. 
Instinct,  301,  309-315. 
Intension,  conceptual  quality  of,  190. 
Introspection,  47. 
Intuition,  203-207. 

JAMES,  W.,  quoted,  29,  287,  297,  338. 
Judgment,  191-194. 

KNOWLEDGE,  a  resultant  of  all  mental 

powers,  58. 
complexity  of,  56,  57. 
simple,  56. 

subconscious,  48,  107,  352. 
the  interpretation  of  sensations,  34, 

36,  60,  61,  66,  68,  72,  81. 

LOCALIZATION  in  brain,  24-27,  113. 
Local  sensations,  63,  69. 
Ludicrous,  the,  261. 


INDEX. 


365 


McKENDRlCK  and  Snodgrass,  quoted, 

31- 

Medulla  oblongata,  20. 
Memory,  loi-m. 

definition  of,  102,  106. 

difference     between     presentative 
and  representative  images,  109. 

different  kinds  of,  1 10. 

entire  brain  the  organ  of,  26. 

images,  106. 

images,  when  not  before  conscious- 
ness, 1 06. 

imagination  in,  106,  151. 

objects  of,  102. 

of  unrelated  facts,  140,  141. 

physical  basis  of,  103,  105,  133. 

powers  involved  in,  109. 

relation  of,  to  perception,  101. 

value   of  repetition    in,  103,   104, 

133- 

varieties   of  remembered   objects, 

102. 
Memory  culture,  132-149. 

brain  modification  in,  132,  133. 

by  clear  images,  134. 

by  comparison,  139-141. 

by  contiguous  association,  136,  137. 

by  correlative  association,  138. 

by  interest,  145. 

by  mnemonics,  149. 

by  repetition,  143,  144. 

by  study  of  relations,  141. 

by  visualizing,  134,  135. 

by  voluntary  attention,  147. 

founded  on  psychic  laws,  149. 
Mental  objects,  46. 
Middle  term,  216. 
Mind,  classification  of  powers  of,  49— 

S*- 

conditioned  by  nervous  svstem,  47. 

immortality  of,  105. 

nature  of,  43. 

works  as  a  unit,  51,  56-59,  67. 
Mind-wandering,  cure  for,  148. 
Mnemonics,  149. 
Moral  emotion,  268-272. 
Morality  and  thought,  236. 
Motive  in  willing,  331,  344. 
Motor  aspect  of  ideas,  315-320. 
Motor  brain  tracts,  24. 
Motor  nerves,  13. 
Muscle  reading,  318. 


Muscular  sensations,  32,  34,  71-73. 
Music,  effects  of,  on  will,  356. 

NERVE  cells,  12,  15,  88,  103. 

broken  down  by  pain,  243,  ->^ 

energy  in,  242,  243,  275. 

modification  of,  in  memory,  133, 
247. 

number  of,  in  brain,  103. 
Nerves,  afferent  and  efferent,  13. 

auditory,  38. 

of  association,  113. 

of  pain,  31. 

olfactory,  39. 

optic,  34. 

sensory  and  motor,  13,  17,  18,  40, 
41. 

size  and  function  of,  13. 

speed  of  transmission  of  stimuli 
by,  40. 

spinal,  17. 

tactile,  30. 

thermal,  31. 
Nervous  currents  in  reflex  action,  304, 

3°5- 
Nervous  stimuli,  speed  of  transmission 

of,  40-42. 
Nervous  system,  9-42. 

all  knowledge  primarily  dependent 

upon  the,  61. 

and  pleasure,  241,  242,  244. 
a  transmitter  of  stimuli,  10. 
central,  16-29. 
chief  elements  of,  12. 
cultivation  of,  28,  29,  108,  133,  289, 

348-352. 

dependence  of  mind  on,  10. 
how  affected  by  pleasure  and  pain, 

241-245. 
peripheral,  29-40. 

OBJECTIVE  mental  state,  46,  47. 

PAIN,  241-245,  248,  291. 

breaks  down  nerve  cells,  243,  244. 
Perception,  66-88. 

all  mental  powers  present  in,  67. 

an  interpretation  of  sensations,  66, 
68,  72. 

by  hearing,  77. 

by  sight,  72-76, 

by  smell,  79. 

by  taste,  80. 


366 


PSYCHOLOGY  AND   PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 


Perception,  by  touch,  68-70. 
completed,  83. 
defined,  66. 
factors  in,  56. 
object  of,  61,  83. 
of  bodily  self,  69,  70. 
of  local  sensations,  69,  70. 
of  space,  70,  71,  74,  75. 
quickness  of,  76,  77. 
reasoning  in,  80-83. 
sensations     translated     by,     into 

knowledge,  67. 
transferred,  81. 

Perception,  cultivation  of,  89—100. 
Agassiz's  method  for,  94-96. 
best  studies  for,  96,  97. 
books  hinder,  91. 
by  attention  to  details,  94. 
concentrated    attention    necessary 

for,  92. 

criminals'  methods  for,  98. 
demanded  for  success,  90. 
directions  for,  93. 
necessary  to  enjoy  travel  and  liter- 
ature, 90,  91. 
Houdin  on,  89,  100. 
often  excellent  in  the  uneducated, 

92. 

rapidity  in,  98,  99. 
time  for,  89. 
value  of  nature  in,  92. 
Physical  basis  of  memory,  103. 
Physiological  psychology,  9-42. 

on  activity  of  brain  cells  in  mental 

action,  107,  108,  133,  248. 
on  aesthetic  emotion,  263,  267,  289. 
on  association   of  ideas,    112-114, 

117-119. 

on  attention,  53,  54,  248,  335. 
on  basis  of  memory,  102-105,  133. 
on  enjoyment,  290,  291,  293. 
on  expression  of  emotion,  251,  252, 

287. 

on  habit,  338,  348,  352. 
on  hygienic   aspect    of   will,    346, 

347- 
on  hygienic  influence  of  emotion, 

281-284. 

on  illusions,  32,  34,  62,  63,  70,  87. 
on  inhibition,  327-330. 
on  limitation    of   nervous    energy, 

242,  246,  275. 


Physiological  psychology,  on  localiza- 
tion of  functions,  24,  112,  153. 

on  motor  tendency  in  ideas,  317- 
320,  350. 

on  muscular  sensations,  72. 

on  obscure  association  of  ideas, 
119. 

on  pain,  31,  241-245,  248,  291. 

on  physical  factors  in  emotion, 
249,  252,  275,  286,  354. 

on  pleasure,  241-244,  248. 

on  reality,  32,  34,  35,  6l,  62. 

on  reflex  action,  18,  53,  301-306, 
310,  334,  337. 

on  stored  nervous  force,  241,  242. 

on  tendency  of  sensory  stimuli  to 
pour  out  in  motor  currents, 

303,  305- 

on  time  required  for  nervous  reac- 
tions, 40-42. 
on  unconscious  processes,  44,  162, 

300,  338. 

Physiological  time,  40-42. 
Pleasure,   241-244,   248.      (See   also 

Enjoyment.) 

result  of  use  of  stored  force,  242. 
Presentation,  56-88. 
Pressure,  sensation  of,  31. 
Psychology,  defined,  9. 

RADCLIFFE,  Mrs.  Ann,  quoted,  122. 
Reaction  time,  41,  42. 
Reasoning,      194-200.        (See     also 
Thought.) 

associational,  211. 

deductive,  199,  216. 

inductive,  195. 

in  perception,  80-83. 

of  animals,  207-214. 

of  children,  215. 
Reflex  action,  18,  301-306,  310. 

conscious,  304-306. 

in  attention,  53,  54,  146,  147. 

scheme  of,  19. 

unconscious,  302-304. 

voluntary  action  lapses  into,  337, 

338. 
Relativity,  of  knowledge,  84,  192. 

of  sensations,  63,  66. 
Remorse,  345. 
Repetition,  123,  133,  143. 
Representation,  101-131. 


INDEX. 


367 


Retinal  image,  34,  72. 

Richardson,  Dr.  B.  W.,  quoted,  281, 

282. 
Romanes,  G.  J.,  quoted,  208,  349. 

SECONDARY  laws  of  association,  119- 
126. 

applied  in  cultivation  of  memory, 

138-148. 

Self-consciousness,  45. 
Sensation,  59-66. 

conditions  of,  60. 

conveys  only  a  small  fraction  of  the 
world's  phenomena,  60,  61. 

defined,  59. 

Fechner's  law  of,  65. 

in  amputated  limb,  70. 

intensity  of,  64. 

in  transplanted  skin,  63. 

limits  of,  60. 

local  qualities  of,  63,  69. 

muscular,  32,  71,  72. 

nerves  of,  1 3,  40. 

quality  of,  62. 

threshold  of,  65. 

transformed  into  motor    impulse, 

303- 

Weber's  law  of,  65. 

what  we  really  know  through,  32, 

61. 

Sensations,  depend   for  quality  upon 
preceding  sensations,  31, 62, 63. 

location  of,  in  brain,  25. 

persistence  of,  31,  37. 

relativity  of,  63. 

thermal,  31. 

through  hearing,  37-39,  60,  77. 

through  sight,  32,  73. 

through  smell,  39. 

through  taste,  40. 

through  touch,  29. 
Senses,  29-40. 

testimony  of  the,   only   relatively 

true,  32,  36,  61,  63,  66,  72. 
Sensory  brain  tracts,  25. 
Sensory  nerves,  13. 
Sight,  32-37. 

binocular,  36,  73,  74. 

center  of,  in  brain,  25. 

color   shades    distinguishable    by, 

37- 
double,  36. 


Sight,  field  of,  74. 

image  in,  not  like  the  object,  34, 
36. 

monocular,  73. 

primary  illusions  of,  37. 
Similarity,  association  by,  1 1 5, 1 1 7, 1 1 8, 

121,  138,  213. 

Smell,  39,  79. 

Spatial  perception,  34,  70,  71,  75. 
Spinal  cord,  1 6. 
Subconscious  field,  48,  107. 
Subjective  mental  state,  46,  47. 
Suggestion,  318. 

Sully,  James,  quoted,  266,  268,  320. 
Sympathy,  community   of  experience 
necessary  for,  258. 

conditions  of,  257. 

contagion  of  emotion  through,  283. 

cultivation  of,  177,  257-259. 

increase  of,  259. 

TASTE,  sense  of,  40,  80. 
Temperature  sensations,  31,  32. 
Thought,  180-221.     (See  also:    Ani- 
mal Intelligence,  Belief,  Com- 
parison,   Concept,    Deduction, 
Induction,    Knowledge,    Intui- 
tion, Judgment,  Reasoning.) 

active  from  the  first,  182. 

and  character,  236. 

breadth  of,  231. 

civilization  a  product  of,  222. 

definition  of,  1 80. 

first  step  in,  183. 

in  aesthetic  enjoyment,  264. 

in  constructive  imagination,  157* 

in  deliberative  will,  323,  324. 

in  memory  culture,  1 38^-140. 

in  perception,  57,  80-83. 

necessary  for  morality,  236. 

necessary  for  sympathy,  258. 

primary  laws  of,  200. 

relations  traced  out  by,  202. 

the  basis  of  progress,  181. 

three  steps  in,  195. 

uses  images,  175,  188. 

variation  in,  217-220. 
Thought,  cultivation  of,  222-238. 

by  a  wide  field  of  study,  231. 

by  classification,  226. 

by  cultivating  the   memory,   138- 
142. 


368 


PSYCHOLOGY   AND    PSYCHIC  CULTURE. 


Thought,  cultivation  of,  by  developing 
a  definite  self,  232,  360. 

by  forming  accurate  concepts,  224. 

by  search  for  analogies,  228-231. 

by  studying  relations,  222,  226, 
232. 

by  use  of  constructive  imagination, 

'57- 

effect  of,  on  character,  232,  236. 

fiction  in,  233-235. 

in  aesthetics,  264,  289. 

time  for,  237. 

value  of  special  studies  in,  237. 
Threshold  of  sensation,  65. 
Time,  idea  of,  204. 
Touch,  29-31. 

interpretation  of,  68-70. 

nerves  of,  30. 

persistence    of    tactile    sensations, 

.  3i- 

Training.     (See  Cultivation.) 

Tuke,  Dr.  D.  H.,  quoted,   164,  165, 

346,  347- 
Tyndall,  John,  quoted,  162,  175,  176. 

UNCONSCIOUS  processes,  44,  128,  162, 

163,  272,  273,  300. 
Utilitarian  theory  of  morals,  270-272. 

VISION,  field  of,  74.    (See  also  Sight.) 
Visualizing,  in  training  memory,  134, 

'35- 

Visual  perception,  72-76. 
Voluntary  attention,  53,  315,  331,  344. 

WEBER'S  law,  65. 
Will,  299-347. 

and  motive,  331. 

as  attention,  315,  331,  344. 

as  product  of  sensory  stimulus,  303, 
310. 

choice  in,  324-326. 

completed  act  of,  326. 

decision  in,  324. 


Will,  deliberative,  315-337. 

desire  antecedent  to,  320-323. 
development  of,  333-337. 
differentiated    from    other    mental 

powers,  299,  300. 
different  types  of,  301,  302. 
•direction  of,  330. 
foundations  of,  300. 
freedom  of,  332,  341-345- 
hygienic  aspects  of,  346. 
imitative  aspects  of,  319. 
impulsive  action  in,  307—309. 
in  developing  character,  338-341, 

359,  36o- 

inhibitive  aspect  of,  327-330. 

instinctive  tendencies  in,  309-315. 

intellectual  factor  in,  321-324. 

motor  aspect  of  ideas,  related  to, 
315-320. 

preceded   either    by   sensation   or 
idea,  316,  332. 

reflexes  at  basis  of,  302-306,  310. 

suggestion  in,  318. 
Will,  cultivation  of,  348-360. 

a  result  of  development  of  char- 
acter, 359,  360. 

by  controlling  expression  of  emo- 
tion, 287,  354. 

by  developing  attention,  354,  355. 

by  doing  distasteful  acts,  357,  358. 

deliberation  an  essential  factor  in, 

352,  353- 

in  forming  good  habits,  348-352. 

inhibition  in,  327-330,  353. 

motor  ideas  in,  320. 

ruinous  methods  in,  356- 

rules  for,  349-352. 

time  for,  348,  349. 
Wit,  262. 

Wordsworth,  William,  quoted,  261. 
Wundt,  Wilhelm,  quoted,  37,  151, 175. 

ZIEHEN,    Theodor,    quoted,    61,    77, 


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